#una wants to know what makes them think she’s interested in parenting

[justreckin]

You think Amanda met Captain Pike and Number One and was immediately like “oh perfect, you two can help me raise my ridiculous child. Here’s coparenting papers.”

[kairiscorner]

ok, i'll be out with it, ako'y isang pinoy RRRGHHHHH tagalog is so fucking hard, help so i kinda had an idea to cope with my shitty filipino exam scores:

(also i'm sorry for the crappy spanish, please correct me on it if you'd like!)

miles morales x filipino reader

YOU WOULD MAKE HIM LISTEN TO IV OF SPADES, THEIR SHIT IS FUCKING FIRE, your songs with him are "mundo" and "come inside of my heart"

miles would sing "come inside of my heart" out loud when he's listening to it on his headphones, especially when he's alone in his room, it's in his playlist now bc of you.

YOU'D MAKE HIM LISTEN TO ERASERHEADS, you probably knew them bc of your parents, your favorite song to listen to with him is "ang huling el bimbo" (umiyak ng malala)

and ben & ben........ ARAW-ARAW IS Y'ALL'S SONG, CHANGE MY MIND

if you're like me, you have no two braincells that understand how to use tagalog or use its tenses properly, but you aren't used to using fluid english that well, so you speak taglish.

being part puerto rican and learning some spanish from his mom, i think you and miles would understand each other a little when using tagalog or spanish.

you both fear the slipper.

when you first met his parents, JUSME, THEY LOVED YOU.

they didn't understand at first what the "mano po" meant, but you explained it was a sign to accept blessings from your elders, and you always called them "tita" and "tito", which rio LOVED OMG.

"Entonces, ¿cuándo vas a invitarlos a una cita? (so, when are you going to ask them out on a date?) " rio would always ask miles this when you were around, and he'd be choking on air or clearing his throat and just laugh it off.

when you offered them rice cakes once, rio asked what they were called, and she almost choked when you said "ah, puto po"

"¿ESTO SE LLAMA COMO? (THIS IS WHAT?)"

jeff wanted more puto, but rio'd pinch his ear when he'd say "puto", she knows it's the name, but she feels kinda weird about it. she accepted it, but still sometimes cringes at the name (I'M SORRY, THAT'S THE NAME)

NOW IF IT WERE YOUR PARENTS (basing off my experience as a filipino so sorry if it's not like yours :'>) THEY'D BE TEASING YOU ABOUT HIM ALL THE DAMN TIME

"ano, jowa mo na ba siya? or ano..."

"nako, ikaw ha, mag-aral ka muna bago ka makipagjowa sa morales na yan"

"aalis ka? sino kasama mo? wala ba doon si morales? ay nandoon, edi sasamahan kita nak."

your parents wouldn't really have a problem with miles, they'd think he's a nice kid, they'd just watch your every move with him as long as he's in your house.

also, i think, you would teach him swear words in tagalog :>

you'd troll him to say "putangina mo" (now don't say this non-filipino readers <333) means "have a good morning"

he tried it on your parents

yeah they didn't like him after that, until you cleared it up and got reprimanded for teaching him the wrong stuff TT

either way, miles would love to learn more about your culture as a filipino, he thinks it's super interesting. you made him want to revisit his puerto rican roots and learn some more spanish when he realized some words you taught him (including the swears) were similar to words in tagalog.

you also wanted to learn a lot more about him, his family, and his roots--so you two kind of exchanged cultures to better understand each other <:)

[localratbastard]

SHE CAN’T HELP BUT WONDER IF LOCUSTS LIKE DICTIONARIES

does the etymology of certain words spark a connection in accordance with personality? 

gods i don’t know who i am but i like the word turbia, turbulence and turbine but not totalitarianism or titere 

osea es una de las varias palabras que me trae satisfacion

i want to start over

i don’t know what it means, any of it

after ritchie blackmore left deep purple, the band, every guitarist that tried to fill in his shoes died

 my little anemic red; it’s a shaky plane that runs on nostalgia 

a cloudy puddle i used to clean the nicks off 

part of me wants to go back and make these ramblings concise but would they still be sincere?

i’m not apt to know

i don’t have witty remarks, just a spiderweb for vocal chords

in pinocchio’s place my Jiminy Cricket would flirt with guilt

english is insincere 

to say it in my native tongue is to confess it to be true

a while back i accused my mother of rambling of growth all while having a stunted tree wrapped around her cavities

i don’t have cavities

my orthodontist praised me, well brushed teeth sit in a row

i think i’m still rotting in places she can’t see

my braces have words caught in them so often i can’t help but mistake them for moldy meals

hartate todo, deja el plato limpio, dime que los trastes los dejastes limpio, ahogate con deseo

others will be fed from my hand and i choke on ashes still 

holding conversations is a chore and locusts tear away at patience 

shut the bastards out during the winter, they never learned from the ants or the cricket

let them catch a flight to the tropics

let that little piece of you go with your parents

i don’t want to get better, i want the guilt to go away by saying i will get better

i want to be a hearth that doesn’t have it’s smoke swallowed by cricketless titeres

what good is turning to work, to interests, to small talk 

if my legs are desecrated carvings chipped at daily burned by another’s fire

i want to swallow my emotions entirely in place of what should have been flossed before bed

i go back to girl, guiltless (who doesn’t exist), to pinpoint when replacements for myself started dying

i’m not ritchie blackmore, deep purple, or his predecessors

i go back to my mother, who bore a bundle of guilt she weaned on liquid contradictions

and i go back to the ortho, who still thinks i don’t have cavities or an infestation 

15/4/2024

[deepdeanvsweston]

Margaret Dolliswood Headcanons? (Thanks for doing the elizabeth one)

That's perfectly ok anon!!! Thankyou for sending it in!!!

Also I know this looks like just. a massive essay but I SWEAR it all relates and is relevant and the hcs are at the bottom!!!

Ok so her motive to kill Elizabeth was that she was a lesbian in love with Astrid Frith and Elizabeth knew this. Which I think is very interesting, considering the the stigma around lesbianism at the time, and also as seen explicitly in the books where Clementine says something along the lines of "something goes wrong in their brains" (I can't quite remember the line) when Margaret's secret comes out.

We of course don't know what was canonically happening between the Five and Elizabeth, if she was abusing them about their secrets, or simply holding them as leverage, but I do often wonder why in Margaret's case, Elizabeth wasn't afraid or disgusted of her, on page at least, because she was a lesbian - as again Clementine says "it's all the same to them" referencing how being hit or being affectionately touched is the same to a lesbian. Obviously they're all so close knit because if 1 secret gets out they all do, but I think a throwaway line in JFP like "none of the Five went near Margaret much" would have cemented the stigma.

BUT. There isn't a line like that!!! And I personally think it would have been fairly easy for the most of the Five to just ostracise Margaret, without fear of their secrets coming out as any credibility she might have had in revealing other people's secrets would have been lost completely because she was a lesbian AND THE fact that most of the Five's secrets don't much have real life consequences, if that makes sense? For example, if Florence's secret got out (which it did, but I'm referring to before E.H was killed) it would have been devastating for her and her family but not put perhaps their lives at risk. HOWEVER note I say most of the Five, because of course Una Dichmann was trying to get her Jewish grandparents out from nazi Germany which very much is a real life consequence that could put lives at risk. So imo Una and Margaret would have bonded out of sheer necessity because if Margaret was ostracised (as previously mentioned I think she'd be the most easy to) and revealed everyone's secrets, then Una's would be the one with actual danger of harm. So Una goes out of her way to cement a friendship or at the very least an alliance with Margaret to avoid this liklihood.

Ok so onto ACTUAL hcs now sorry anon

- I can't find a description of her on the wiki and I don't have my book on me so I think she has pin straight auburn hair with freckles that she hates (Astrid ADORES them tho)

- she used to be the prankster of her year, always pulling tricks on the teachers and during assemblies and creating mischief on exeat weekends

- she is always trying to put the attention away from her with all her tricks, but also desperately wants the attention

- she is the Eldest Daughter, with 3 sisters aged 3, 4, and 5 so there is an age gap

- her parents aren't cruel, not in any way, and do love her to bits, but with 4 other children they have grown a bit fatigued of parenting and so it lands on her a lot to be like 'oh I love your drawing!' 'i can take you to the loo! 'come here, your ribbon is all messed up'

- and of course as Eldest Daughter, she is expected to pave the way for her sisters, securing herself a decent husband etc etc.

- and she's actually happy with this!!! She's stuck in comphet but she thinks she's happy! Of course ALL girls stare at each other's legs in their gym kits!!!

- but then. She meets Astrid, a new student from Denmark who arrives in the last term of fourth form, and everything turns on its head

- Margaret honest to god genuinely thinks she's allergic to Astrid, or at least her perfume or detergent or something

- why does she keep having hot flushes? And butterflies in her stomach? And why does she lean forward every time Astrid goes to say something?

- Margaret realises she's a lesbian after several dreams about her and Astrid

- and her whole prankster thing changes. She becomes a model student, perfectly presentable, hw handed perfectly because she doesn't want the attention anymore. Attention means people look closer.

- one step out of line and she fears everything she has will fall to pieces because of Astrid

- they are friends at this point and through several tense moments during the summer hols before sixth form, they end up together

- and then the events of Jolly Foul Play happen and her secret comes out

- and that happens in like Sept - Nov so she still has a whole year of ridicule to go

- her parents are essentially embarrassed and ashamed of her but don't pull her out of school as they feel it's the one thing that could change her back to 'normal', and really push her into school work. And anyway

- Astrid's parents immediately pull her back to Denmark and ban any contact

- and that's almost that.

- 17 years later they find each other and buy a house by the sea. It's only ever been them for each other, anyway.

- as for the war, I'd imagine Margaret joins the WRNS (Woman's Royal Naval Service) and Astrid does something in communications (???)

- Margaret and Una, after everything, become actually close friends, and they'd both give their lives for each other given the need. I like to think their friendship becomes DaisyandHazel-esque in nature

[princeblack]

on sunday he leaves the castle at dawn, carrying some clothes and water in his bag as he crosses the courtyard. he made sure to pack a sweater and a jacket as well as a set of his slytherin robes, wanting to find bee and at least keep her warm and covered enough to make it to a building. he had been watching her the past two months, noticing she was always missing at breakfast on days after the full moon. what’s more than that, she’d shared with him that the new professor remus lupin is her biological father, who also disappeared on days of the moon. it doesn’t take long to notice the pattern, particularly because regulus is a little obsessed with her.

she may not know it but bee is the love of his life, someone he’s been pining for since he met her at the start of first year when they were just fifteen. even just meeting her, he’d never felt those feelings before, like he was looking at a shining star just listening to her speak about what she loved. she inspired him, not just because of her enthusiasm and interest in creatures but also her beauty. it seemed unrealistic that someone could be so gorgeous, with the prettiest face and smile he’d ever seen. he was told from a young age that he would be sorted into slytherin and sit with the pureblood families, witches and wizards who had been prominent for centuries. he never anticipated befriending a hufflepuff, especially not when his cousin draco had spoken so ill of them, repeating what lucius had told him about the house. he even joked about just leaving hogwarts if he was sorted into hufflepuff, which regulus ignored. his own father orion had said at least hufflepuffs were hard-workers, citing gryffindor as the worst house because of the house’s history of siding against ‘their culture’ and the way they valued the old ways.

regulus knows how wrong that is now, after he watched people attacked and almost killed last year when the chamber of secrets was opened. it was all in the name of blood supremacy, even draco saying that he hoped hermione granger was the ‘mudblood’ to die. tension was high and it was the first time regulus really saw the full extent of what pureblood supremacy could cause, many of the people around him repeating that muggleborns deserved to be killed. regulus realizes he’s a fool now for ever thinking that there was a way to remove muggleborns from their society without killing them. but lord voldemort made it seem like it would be possible at first, seeming as if he had answers about keeping their kind safe and powerful enough to defend themselves so the witch hunts didn’t drive them to near extinction again.

but everything changed when bee was paralyzed, being attacked by the basilisk as it targeted hermione, who was the muggleborn it wanted. realizing bee could’ve died, it angered him that his family seemed to make excuses for the chamber. it almost ruined his relationship with draco until he became quiet on the matter after bee’s attack, seeming to actually agree that all of it had gone too far. he never really believed draco wanted hermione dead to begin with, knowing his cousin well enough to deduce that draco wouldn’t ever actually harm someone or truly wish that on them. instead he was all talk, trying to please lucius to an extent that even regulus didn’t reach with orion.

he starts to hate lucius and even his parents to an extent, finding that his entire world view is being destroyed as bee’s petrified body sits in the infirmary. but then came the summer, when he finally witnessed voldemort kill innocent muggles, claiming it was time for everyone to become comfortable with what they have to do to fully seize power and help him get a new body. they then had to wach him re-animate the corpses for the purpose of adding to his inferi army. 

even with months passed, regulus still has nightmares about the deaths he’d seen. voldemort seems to sense his confusion and anger, asking if he could use kreacher to secure a horcrux defense. knowing he was unable to say no and that it was a test of loyalty, regulus agreed reluctantly.

what regulus doesn’t anticipate is kreacher being left to die, barely making it back to him in one piece. it makes him angry more than anything, that he was betrayed in more ways than one, made out to be a complete fool. he was lied to and pressured from all sides, and all it had gotten him was more trauma and the near loss of the girl he loves as well as kreacher, someone he loves like family.

so he works on the decoy locket, wanting to return to the cave and retrieve the real one so he can destroy it and consequentially kill voldemort before he’s even able to get his new body. he hides his mark, trying to get through the school year, but something that made it undoubtedly worse was his brother’s recent escape from azkaban. neither of his parents would ever talk very much about their first son (whose image was burned off of the family tree), but from what his mother said regulus had always thought sirius was the same as andromeda, disavowing the family beliefs for blood purity. it doesn’t make sense, then, that he was secretly a supporter of lord voldemort, killing thirteen muggles in broad daylight. despite this, voldemort has never spoken of it and regulus was taught not to ask questions, so he didn’t.

all he knows is there are rumors that his brother is insane and could be doing anything now that he’s on the loose. it’s been difficult, particularly because he was already struggling with hating himself for what happened to kreacher and how his family had led him down this path (presumably the same one sirius wound up on, even when he tried to resist). the only person who spoke against the rumors was bee, even writing him a sweet letter with gifts attached. if he wasn’t already in love with her (he was), he would’ve fallen for her right then, reading her words over and over each night for comfort. he even wrote his own love letter back, leaving it unsigned. he hasn’t gathered the courage to send it, knowing how big his words are and how wrong it is to pursue her to begin with when he can’t be honest about who he is. what would she say, if she saw his mark? what would happen to her, if his plan with voldemort went wrong? and even more than all of that, what if she didn’t feel the same way?

none of those fears matter when it comes to their friendship, though, and all he wants to do when he learns of her lycanthropy is to help her. he goes to talk to her father, making him aware that he’ll be searching for her this morning and not to look for her himself. he even confessed how he feels about her so that remus knew he was serious, convincing him surprisingly easily that he could handle this. he’s not afraid of bee’s lycanthropy and he would gladly take it on himself if it meant showing her that someone cares for her and has her back always. he would do anything for the girl who showed him a glimpse of her bright world, making things a little less grim and serious in his. it was only because of her that he felt safe to pursue his own passion more, reading about creatures and particularly dragons when he wasn’t supposed to because of his mother. he’s not sure how to thank her for making him want to fight and actually survive the war that’s coming, and even doing this doesn’t seem to be enough.

but he traipses through the courtyard, finally reaching the entrance to the forbidden forest. he pulls his scarf more tightly around him, adjusting it so it isn’t caught beneath his dark brown jacket, one of his favorite ones that’s a tweed material. it’s silly that he cares about his appearance when he’s looking for his friend who’s probably disheveled after being a werewolf right now, but he already knows she’s going to be beautiful and take his breath away completely.

he finds her in a patch of flowers in a clearing, laying there with no clothes on, dirt smeared across her body. he flushes, feeling warmth spread through him at the sight of her naked curves, beautiful skin and hips and breasts. he tries to avert his eyes as he approaches but it’s difficult not to look at all of her when he has to look at her face too. it feels especially strange because she’s still passed out, her eyes shut and her pretty face almost peaceful looking. she has no idea that he's looking at her right now, or that he had planned to come out here at all.

he takes off his bag, placing it in the grass. starting to tug the clothing out, he grabs his robe first, stepping forward to lay it across her body and cover her with it. then he gently touches her shoulder, his voice quiet as he tries to wake her. “bee… wake up. i told professor lupin i was going to help you today.”  / @devcted

[robotstrategy]

Recalled • Part 1 • 5 - Sam

Previous • Series Masterlist • Part 1 Masterlist • Next

Sam Zeus Ward, “The little version of that concept car made for babies” as Nero calls him. Sam loves his Rewind family, which for him really just consists of Nero as a big sister and Cam as a sort of mentor type.

But there’s one thing that makes him different from all his unit of ten, or even the state home in total. The gaping hole inside of him cannot be quenched. All the others fill that hole so easily, whether it’s Nero becoming a Military Beouf, Tonya wanting to become a teacher, or Ian being a great hockey player. 

Sam can’t fill that void, it keeps longing for more, always trying to grasp something new. 

“Is what we have not good enough for him? Honestly, he seems like a complete glutton to me. I don't know what Cam sees in him.” He had heard one of the Rewinds whisper when he and Nero were passing by.

“What I’m hearing is that he’s not interested in this stupid institution with this stupid boring plain stuff and I’m not interested in it either.” Nero had snapped back. Sam always thought back to what she had said, it seemed funny to him because Nero had become the most basic thing a ward kid could do, a Military Boeuf.

Sam spotted a lady out of the corner of his eye. He had seen her before, she always came along with Cam whenever he visited. Sam always left her alone, but he couldn’t not address her anymore, curiosity and the gaping hole inside of him couldn’t escape her anymore. 

“What are you doing?” Sam asks the woman, She turns around to reveal that she’s holding a camera.

“I am taking photos of all of you, I must show that you are triumphant and tragic. You must be seen as human, but humanity must know what a mistake it was to create you.” She tells him.

Sam now stares her straight in the eyes. “I think it’s great that you want to make us seem like humans, but why are we a mistake to you?”

“Your mere existence along with your brothers and sisters means that we have failed as a society and that all those parents have failed to let their children back into their lives.” She says.

Sam furrowed his eyebrows. “You know that some of their bodies were too far gone to even be built all back together, some of them were wards of the state, and some of them were unwanted.” He says, defending him and the Rewinds.

She gives him a look before saying “We aren’t going to get along are we?”

“I guess we won’t,” he says before turning away from her. He looks over to the other Rewinds avoiding meeting the woman's gaze again. 

One of the Rewinds joyfully runs up to the Woman, hopping around her trying to be within the view of the camera lens. 

“Record us, Una! Record us! We wanna show you something we did!” The girl exclaimed.

Una grimaced at her before pushing her away. “These photos are special, I cannot take videos of your stupid little things.”

After seeing the disappointed look on the girl’s face Sam is enraged and huffs his way over to Una. “Show me how to use one of those things.” He yells at her. 

“What?” Una says, spinning around to face him. 

“Show me how to use one of those things, I want to take videos of their stupid little things!” He yelled again.

“So, what is this?” Nero questions, putting her eyeball up to the barrel of the camera. 

“It’s a camera, I wanted to take videos of our friends since Una doesn't want to do that.” He tells her. 

“Oh cool! You know, you could do as the kids say, God, I sound old, vlog about your life and the other kids in the ward.” Nero suggests.

Sam runs up to Nero to give her a big hug “Thanks Nero that’s a great idea! I would probably have to get someone to edit them though, I don’t think they come out fresh off the tapes with all those horrendous sound effects.” He exclaims.

Nero lets out a good chuckle, “No problem, bud, no problem.”

[samsspambox]

I have come to the realization that there is almost no kiki content in the fandom, so I will be dropping on the most popular tot blogs to ask. thoughts on kiki bennet? (pssps feel free not to answer if you don't want!)

heyo nonnie! jkdsnckdjn im flattered you think of me as a poplar tot blog!!!! ayo ma! i made it!

no but fr fr, kiki bennet is literally a treasure trove of potential. she's pretty, shes smart, she has hobbies, and she's single. we know so little about her that anything we write about her could be plausible! what else could you want???! i'm with you on this indignation of lack of content nonnie, kiki bennet should be written in more fics, she's so fucking interesting.

here are some of my passing thoughts of kiki bennet i've had throughout the year this game has been live:

kiki could be an nsb super secret agent

hear me out hear me out -- i've written this before and and it could make sense

back when lukepearceing was still active *does salute* we had a theory chain and in it, we thought of the idea of kiki being a type o sleeper agent for the nsb

kiki and mc met through college (re: poor una cabeza where mc said she took an acting class bc kiki said it'd be easy credits) so the timeline kinda meets up

we know that the nsb is capable of recruiting literal children t (luke was 16/17 when he went off to college) so could kiki really be any different?

we had a couple of theories as too why kiki was placed as mc's retainer, but most of them lead to mc's parents and their 'research' so someone had to watch mc (as insurance or for safety we don't know)

which brings up the dynamic of agent raven vs agent bennet (or, agent hummingbird), like they cant say they 'know each other' in front of mc

there's also the rivalry component-- who's the better agent? which could then lead to some good enemies to lovers if you play your cards right

(i do have an agent kiki fic, but it was when i first started to write and maybe i should re-write it/ give it a sequel)

kiki is a stan, maybe she can stan someone else?

listen, kiki as a marius stan would be so fucking funny hear me out--

we know that kiki follows idols online, and you know who else gets media exposure?

marius von hagen.

kiki's a good character to dig deep with marius -- with idols (or just famous people in general) you have to do your research

i think kiki would be one of the people to look through the mask marius wears

and then somehow he's her friend's client and she can get an autograph jbdcjksb (another one that could end in a ship if you play your cards right)

kiki and vincent -- the designated wingmans of the main characters who maybe also crave love and could find it in each other

WINGPEOPLE FOR THE WIN

listen i will die on this hill, this is my top ship with kiki in it

we don't know how old vincent is, but by the looks of it he cant be that old!

they could try and help their respective person get together with the other and then they could also fall in love with each other bc

vincent hypes marius up and he does it in such an earnest way and u know how

some people light up when talking about things they're very passionate and suddenly you have this moment of like 'oh, you're kinda cute' yeah that. kiki has that moment

and it would be so cute to have mc and marius get them together too after/before they got together and uGH

this ship is my guilty pleasure and i should totally write them

kiki and artem could be friends! they should be friends tbh

kiki and trek have such a funny relationship in game-- one is afraid of the other while the other is just like ???

i have written this before but kiki and artem both like movies and with kiki's influenc in the stan field they surely would have talked

i def see this as more of a platonic relationship as friends that hang out and watch shifty movies to pass time

but i can also see the potential of a ship (as with all the other things on here) since you'd have two people's opinions of each other changing the more time they spend together

i have also written a fic about it, bc who doesn't love a good office comedy?

and yeah! those are my takes on kiki! shes's such a cool character and i love her to bits. thank you for the ask nonnie!!

[yvaineseleneposts]

The Troubadour

Requested: no

A/N: This has to be my longest piece ever! I hope it was worth the wait and that you enjoyed it. There could be a few mistakes in there both in English and Italian, sorry in advance. I loved writing this, it wasn’t exactly what I wanted but I am a perfectionist and I have rewritten this about 5 times. I just needed to post it now!

Pairing: OC!Diana Bianchi & Damiano David

Words: 3k

Warning(s): swearing, drinking, smoking (I mean it’s the 70s…), smoking weed, my Italian (I have been studying this beautiful language for three years now but people make mistakes)

West Hollywood, California // Mid-January 1972

Red eyes.

Sweaty foreheads.

That is all Diana would see when they screamed at her. “CAN I GET TWO BEERS AND A COKE PLEASE?!”

Working behind the bar was not her dream job. Diana remembered it like it was yesterday, she and her friend Tami had gone to The Troubadour to celebrate the weekend when she saw a “help wanted” poster. It was a godsend. Diana applied there and then and not long after she found herself behind the bar, handing out drinks to people who looked like they were having the best time of their lives. Another plus side was the fact that she could attend the concerts of all the artists and bands for free.

Obviously, there were also downsides to this job. For example, Diana couldn’t go out and live her teenage years. She isn’t allowed to drink (too much) on the job and the hours aren’t exactly great. The pay is okay though and the tips are even better. Half of the people don’t even know how much they are giving and walk off like they didn’t just hand you 20 for an eight dollar drink. She doesn’t complain much about her job but she does feel left behind sometimes. Like when Tami or her other friend chat about some weird adventure they had the night before and who they met or kissed. Diana felt like she missed out on a lot of things but she had no other choice.

Her parents had kicked her out when she was 15. Diana moved in with her grandmother and lived with her for a while until she passed away. She has been living alone in her grandmother’s old apartment ever since. A few friends had moved in with her but then moved out again when they had found a better place to live. So it was just Diana paying the rent for the place.

 “CAN I GET A RUM AND COKE?!” Diana gets snapped out of her thoughts. Shit, what did he want?! She thinks to herself as she stares at the intoxicated man.  “SORRY?!” She shouts back over the loud music. At least she had another reason for not hearing the man.  “RUM AND COKE!” That is all the man yells before turning his band to her so he could face the stage. Some weird indie band is playing tonight. Diana wasn’t really into it and honestly couldn’t wait until her boss would send her home for the night. She puts in a little less rum, the man will probably not even taste the difference.

The band had stopped playing somewhere around two a.m. However not all the guests had left around 2.30 which is something Diana hated the most. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy her job but after so many hours standing on her feet, she wanted nothing more than to clean up, go home and get into her warm bed.

 “Diana, can you come here for a minute?” her boss asked. What was that tone, was he going to fire her?! “It’s nothing bad, don’t worry.” Pfew. Diana walked behind him into his office.

 “What can I help you with, Doug?” She asked as she sat down in the very comfortable chair across from him. Doug Weston had somewhat become her parent over the last few years that she had worked here. He was always so kind to her and could always ask him for help if she needed him.

 “I want to get more bands from across the sea. I want interesting people and not just the same bands playing over and over again. New talent that no one has heard of before but will become known because of this place. Inspire new talent, you know?” He was rambling on with his sales pitch as if you had any input, it was his place after all. “And seeing that you can speak more languages than I have ever could, I was wondering if you could write small pieces for newspapers in Europe that will inspire these artists to come here and get all the fame and fortune they want.”

 “Sure, Doug. You know I would do anything to help this place… and you of course”, Diana said while a wide grin spread on her face. She felt like she was moving up when in reality it wasn’t a new job position. She would do anything to not have the same indie bands playing almost every night. Diana would never have imagined that she would change the lives of four individuals barely six months later, and change her own life along with it.

Rome, Italy // Mid-March 1972

 “The Troubadour. The place where artists and bands from all over the world can make it or break it in the United States. It all depends on the crowd. If they love you, you can come back for an entire week! If not you will receive the money for that evening but sadly you won’t be allowed back. It’s always packed with record executives so you could get a sweet record deal out of this experience. Do you have what it takes? Sign up and good luck to everyone competing in the battle of the bands! – D. B.” Damiano finishes reading. “Ragazzi, I honestly cannot wait till we get to play there! It’s going to be veramente stupendo!”

 “Bene Damiano, calm yourself. It’s less than five months away. We still have to play in this dump to even afford to go. We barely have enough money for a motel, we don’t even have the plane tickets yet!” Classic Victoria, always worrying as if she is the mother of the group.  “Calmati Victoria, noi staremo bene”, Ethan jumps in. “Let’s get back to practising before we start another fight, sì?” The rest nods their head and pick up their instruments.  “I was thinking, should we start with I wanna be your slave oppuro no? Is it too much?” Damiano suggest.  “Oh, and for outfits, I have a few ideas?!” Thomas adds like a little kid who is excited for Christmas day.  “Positivo, let’s look at those after practice”, Damiano says. Not even ten minutes later they had many up a little setlist. It was a battle of the bands so they had to at least practice 4-5 songs to play against other bands. Then if they were allowed to come back they had to prepare yet another 6 songs on top of those 5 they had already played. They could do it, they had enough songs in their database but were they going to sing their Italian songs or did they have to translate them? The members of Måneskin weren’t sure yet. Luckily for them, they had four months to think about it.

West Hollywood, California // Mid-July 1972

Diana hadn’t even woken up yet, but on the other side of the city, Måneskin had arrived at the airport.  “Finalmente ci siamo. Ce l’abbiamo fatta!” Thomas exclaims. Damiano chuckles and throws an arm around Thomas’s shoulders.  “Slow down, loverboy. We have not made it yet. We landed yes, but we have a long way to go from here to that stage tonight.”  “How every grown-up of you, Damiano”, Victoria teases. “I bet with Ethan that you would follow the first American girl that you saw in this airport and that we wouldn’t see you until much later.”  “Ha ha, molto divertente, Victoria. Sei una persona così divertente.” They continue their bickering whilst Ethan collects all of their suitcases.   “Addiamo?” He finally asks the group, they all agree and make their way through the busy airport to the designated taxi area. During this, they complain about how crowded it is and how much the air smells. It is nothing like their own country but you have to take chances if you want to become famous like their dream.

Later that day

Doug had told Diana to come into work later than she usually would. It was going to be a busy night and he’d rather have her work during the performances than during the day and wear her out. So here she was around six-thirty instead of two o’clock. It felt so weird because usually when she arrives there is no line out front and now there was one to the end of the block. She passed all the people waiting in line, hearing them complain and moan as she walks up to Mario, the bouncer. He doesn’t even need to see her worker-id, as she walks in he wishes her good luck with tonight. She liked Mario, he was working here before she came and even then he had told her if she ever needed anything him and his wife had an extra bed for her. Honestly, the sweetest guy… also the toughest guy you will ever meet.

As Diana walked to the changing area to hang her coat and bag, she ran into a few participants of tonight’s show. She greeted most of them but they were too busy with themselves, the fame they hadn’t even earned yet was already rising to their heads. Before she could make her way to the bar, Doug called her over.

 “Diana, come here for a second. I want to introduce you to a few people.” Classic Doug, always introducing everybody to everybody. If he believed you could make it, he would introduce you to all his workers. However, the bands did not know this, the workers would treat them a little extra. “They are from Italy as well!” As if Diana herself had moved for their, it was actually her grandparents. She could speak a little Italian but other than her last name, there was nothing Italian about her. Doug briefly introduced the members of Måneskin to Diana, who couldn’t keep her eyes off a certain member. To be quite honest she had not remembered everyone’s names and she stumbled to get her name out of her mouth. All because she was already head over heels with this handsome, tall, young Italian man.

After a couple of introduction, Diana was finally behind her bar, her safe space. Meeting Damiano had made her weak in her knees, she had never had a reaction like this before. She didn’t really pay attention to the competitors and focused on serving the people but when it was Måneskin’s turn, she started to lose focus on her work.

During most of their setlist, Damiano kept glancing over to Diana and winking at her. Or at least that’s what it felt like for Diana. However, after a rather sexy song (let’s be real most of them are) he kissed one of his male bandmates on the mouth. Now Diana is not one to judge people on who they love. She reasons that everyone should love who they want to love and receive love because of it. It wasn’t that she hated it, it kind of turned her on, but she was very confused. Had she read the signs wrong? Were there even any signs to begin with? At times like these she wanted to ask Tami for help yet she was afraid that if Tami came and tried to help her that somehow Tami’s charm would work on Damiano and Diana would still end up with nothing. No, she had to do this on her own, she decided.

After the battle of the bands was over, a few stayed behind to talk with record labels about future arrangements. Diana started cleaning up, and washing and drying a few glasses, secretly listening in on a few conversations.

 “I liked what I saw out there. Let your agent call me and we will discuss your expansion in the United States.” Well, that sounded very good. Diana turned around to see who the band was that this man was talking to, but when she turned around she looked right into Damiano’s eyes.

 “I have been trying to get your attention all night”, he says shyly.  “Really? I thought so but I wasn’t sure”, Diana responds. Damiano raises his hand and scratches behind his head.  “I was wondering, you know. If maybe- ugh. Perchè è cosi difficile?” He mutters, not looking Diana in the eyes.  “Provalo in Italiano?” she suggests and Damiano’s eyes shoot up to meet hers.  “Cazzo. Parli Italiano?” He looks even more nervous now.  “Si, parlo Italiano.” He laughs at her answer.  “Vuoi uscire domani sera?” Diana nods her head, she honestly cannot stop smiling.  “I’d love to go out with you. Do you want me to pick you up at the hotel? That would be easier than you trying to find my house.”  “Yeah, sure. We’re staying at the Millwood Motel, it’s not too far from the airport.”  “Ah yes, I know that place. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He leans over and kisses her cheek before leaving her to finish her work.

That night Diana barely slept. Did Damiano know any places here to take her to? Did she have to come up with a place? What if he was some weird guy? What if he was a murderer?! She sure was happy now that she didn’t give him her address. The following day she woke up around noon. She went to the kitchen and grabbed her Cona coffee maker, if she was to get through the day, she was going to need a big cup of coffee. She put water and coffee ground on the lower half of the pot and put it on the stove. She hated having to watch the coffee boil and couldn’t wait for better times when you would just have to push a button to get your coffee.

Seeing that she woke up around noon, it didn’t take long before Diana met up with Damiano. She asked him if he had anything specific in mind. Surprisingly, he did. He explained that he and his bandmates did a little sightseeing and they walked past a roller skating rink. Damiano always wanted to try that and he thought this would be perfect for their little date. Diana absolutely loved the idea and couldn’t wait till they got there.

Both of them were sad that the night had ended so quickly or so they thought. It was in fact 1 a.m. and they had already spend ten hours together. Diana brought Damiano back to the motel with her car and of course he couldn’t leave without planting a kiss on her lips. They kissed for a while before finally letting each other go.  “We’ll be leaving soon”, Damiano said and looked at their intertwined hands in his lap.  “Already? You just got here two days ago”, Diana complained. She just met him and now he is leaving already? She wasn’t prepared for that. She knew he was leaving at some point, he had to he didn’t live in the US, but still she had hoped for a little more time together.  “Maybe we’ll come back soon. We have a meeting with our agent and that record label guy tomorrow.”  “Could we meet up after? We should catch dinner together, I have another day off”, she suggested. Damiano agreed, kissed her one more time before leaving her car and making his way to his motel room.

The next day

Diana waited for Damiano in front of a large building. She was enjoying the sun on her face when she felt two arms coming from behind and hugging her on her stomach.  “Ciao, amore mio. Sei adorabile oggi”, Damiano said into her ear before kissing the side of her face.  “Ciao, you don’t look to bad yourself”, she said as she turned around. She grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him on his lips, his mates cheering them on in the background. “How did it go in there?” With that question Damiano’s face broke out in a wide grin. “What?”  “Amore, we’re staying here in the US. We got a record deal, we will be here for the entire year!” he shouts and all five of them jump in celebration. “I was going to tell you at dinner, but I just couldn’t wait anymore. We can be together, amore.” Diana broke out in tears, nodding her head, for she had never met a man who she loved more than Damiano. Her Italian lover boy.

[esuemmanuel]

Me acostumbré a cuidarte y, no tanto porque así lo quisiera, sino porque me lo exigía mi madre. Creo que, desde antes de que nacieras, ella me había impuesto esa labor, sólo por ser el hijo mayor. No me preguntó si me interesaría hacerlo, sólo me lo demandó. Y está bien ¿qué puedes hacer en contra de eso? Una orden de nuestra madre, es una orden que debe acatarse… y yo la acaté sin chistar, aunque, en realidad, nunca me cuestioné por qué debía cuidarte; algo en mi instinto me demandaba lo mismo que, de no habérmelo ordenado mi madre, por voluntad propia, lo hubiera hecho. Es algo natural, si bien se puede decir. El corazón de un hermano, más siendo mayor, se deja seducir por la inocencia de quien aún le falta vida por vivir, así sea poco el tiempo que se tenga de diferencia. Pocas veces me dolió ser tu escudo, ya que, a decir verdad, tenías la suerte de ganarte el corazón de las personas con el simple hecho de ser tú. Naciste con esa chispa que atrae a la gente, que la seduce (al igual que a mí), provocándoles una profunda necesidad de protegerte. Y, quizás, es ahí en donde yace el problema que estoy tratando de expresar. Esa chispa con la que naciste te ha llevado a caer en la soberbia creencia de que todo lo mereces, que puedes hacer y deshacer a tu antojo sin importar si provocas dolor o no a quienes nos has seducido. La realidad es que esa seducción es una espada de doble filo y, tal vez, ni siquiera seas consciente de eso. Sin embargo, yo la veo… y la veo, precisamente, porque crecí contigo, porque he vivido bajo el mismo techo y he sido testigo de lo que nuestros padres te han dado, a diferencia de lo que me han dado a mí. Yo he sido el rebelde, el que no se calla, el que se sale de la ecuación, el que nunca está satisfecho con lo que tiene (bueno, en esto tú y yo nos parecemos), el de color gris, el que causa repudio; el oscuro, el brujo, el enojado con la vida y el mundo, el solitario, el raro, el antisocial… y todos los adjetivos que quieras agregar, mientras tú has sido el epítome de la belleza, de la gracia y la inocencia, de esa pureza que sólo en los cuentos de hadas se puede encontrar, y bien lo decían nuestros padres cuando éramos pequeños. Tú eras la princesita y yo el ogro, aunque no me lo decían de frente, pero bien podía verlo en sus ojos… y así fue como crecimos, tú haciendo tu labor de princesa en apuros y yo el de la bestia que espantaba a todo aquél que te quisiera hacer algún mal. Al final ¿cómo ha resultado eso? Has hecho lo que has querido, te has llenado de heridas con el placer que da obtenerlas y hasta haz gozado del veneno que tus depredadores te han dado a beber ¿y yo en dónde he quedado? Ah, en una esquina de la habitación que tiene por nombre “indiferencia”, y no sólo yo he quedado ahí, también nuestra madre y todas aquellas personas que han caído en el influjo de tu seducción. La verdad es que no podemos protegerte y, sin embargo, no podemos, tampoco, quitarnos el encantamiento que has dejado caer sobre nosotros, entonces, nos es imposible quitarnos el dolor que nos provoca saber que nuestros esfuerzos por cuidarte no son más que gemidos de agonía. Nada podemos hacer, ése parece ser el castigo que nos ha impuesto tu aparente pureza… y me pregunto ¿dónde queda nuestra libertad? Ésa de la que haces tu bandera al defender con necedad tu nulo deseo a ser protegida mientras, a nosotros, nos mantienes atrapados en el influjo de tu necesidad.

— Esu Emmanuel©️, I got used to looking after you, not so much because I wanted to, but because my mother demanded it of me. I think she had imposed it on me before you were born, just because I was the eldest son. She didn't ask me if I would be interested in doing it, she just demanded it. And that's fine, what can you do against that? An order from our mother is an order that must be obeyed... and I obeyed it without question, although, in reality, I never questioned why I should look after you; something in my instinct demanded the same thing that, if my mother had not ordered me to do it, of my own free will, I would have done it. It is a natural thing, if I may say so. The heart of a brother, even more so when he is older, is seduced by the innocence of one who has yet to live, even if there is little time between them. It rarely hurt me to be your shield, because, to tell the truth, you were lucky enough to win people's hearts just by being you. You were born with that spark that attracts people, that seduces them (as well as me), provoking in them a deep need to protect you. And, perhaps, therein lies the problem I am trying to express. That spark you were born with has led you to fall into the arrogant belief that you deserve everything, that you can do and undo as you please regardless of whether or not you cause pain to those you have seduced. The reality is that seduction is a double-edged sword, and you may not even be aware of it. Yet I see it... and I see it precisely because I grew up with you, because I have lived under the same roof and have witnessed what our parents have given you, as opposed to what they have given me. I have been the rebel, the one who won't shut up, the one who is out of the equation, the one who is never satisfied with what he has (well, in this you and I are alike), the grey one, the one who causes repudiation; the dark one, the witcher, the one angry with life and the world, the lonely one, the weird one, the antisocial one.... and all the adjectives you want to add, while you have been the epitome of beauty, of grace and innocence, of that purity that can only be found in fairy tales, as our parents used to say when we were little. You were the little princess and I was the ogre, although they didn't say it to my face, but I could see it in their eyes... and that's how we grew up, you playing the role of the princess in distress and me the beast that scared away anyone who wanted to do you any harm. How did that turn out in the end? You've done what you wanted, you've filled yourself with wounds with the pleasure that comes from getting them and you've even enjoyed the poison that your predators have given you to drink and where have I been? Ah, in a corner of the room called "indifference", and not only I am left there, but also our mother and all those who have fallen under the sway of your seduction. The truth is that we cannot protect you, and yet we cannot remove the spell you have cast on us, so we cannot remove the pain of knowing that our efforts to care for you are nothing more than moans of agony. Nothing we can do, that seems to be the punishment that your apparent purity has imposed on us... and I wonder where is our freedom, the one you make your banner of by foolishly defending your null desire to be protected while you keep us trapped in the sway of your need.

[honeysidesarchived]

WHERE THERE IS NO TEMPTATION, THERE IS NO GLORY.

⊱ a santino d'antonio / oc short-fic

interlude i ( read on ao3 ) ( masterlist )

words: 3k

warnings: clown to clown communication! dassit.

rating: m/t

notes: little flashback/interlude chapter where we can all pretend we don't know the inevitable doom that euphie and santino are hurtling towards at breakneck speed ♡ thank you everyone for your love and support on this fic!!!

and thank you to my beta @starcrier who has been reading this content and proofing it not for the first time, but now for the SECOND time, after beginning this fixation for me from the start. you are an angel and ily! ♡♡

Two Years Earlier

It’s the second time that Euphemia meets Santino that she realizes some things in her life have been decided for her, by Fate, and against her will.

Down the road, it will be come a hallmark of their love. Santino will say it against her mouth, her jaw, her neck; il destino, he’ll murmur, you are my destiny. But Euphie will have felt it, that inevitable pull of him, long before he says it.

It’s a black tie even at his museum. She’s been here once before, for a different event he’s thrown, with a different man as a date. That one had been Italian; this one, tonight, is Russian. She would try to remember their names if they mattered, but they don’t.

Admittedly, it’s not quite a date for her, but it is for the Russian. He’s been courting her well and good for the last week, has taken to calling her my girl, is unaware that just two weeks ago she had let another man call her that (or if he knows, he refuses to acknowledge it). She won’t think about it very much; if there’s a little bit of her that hates it, she is reminded that almost all of the money goes home, and that’s what matters.

So, yes—the evening she meets Santino for what is, technically, the second time, she’s on the arm of another man, and Santino walks by with what she’s sure is every intention of ignoring her date for the evening. Her partner says his name, bright and friendly, and the Golden Boy stops and turns with a smile planted on his face that only thinly veils his annoyance at being detained.

“Buonasera,” Santi greets, hands tucked into the pocket of his slacks as he drags his gaze once over her date and then turns his eyes to her. The linger, longer than Euphie might like—men, she thinks, nothing they do doesn’t feel intrusive—and then turn back to her paramour for the evening. “Thank you for coming. Are you two enjoying the evening?”

“Yes, thank you,” the Russian says, and then with a pleased little smile, he plunges on to introduce her. “This is my Euphemia.”

The words leave a sour taste in her mouth. My Euphemia, this fucking gangster says, like he hasn’t paid for her attendance in expensive gifts that she promptly turns around for profit, like she won’t slide his credit card out of his wallet when he isn’t looking. She knows what he expects out of the evening—but he won’t get it. It wouldn’t be a party if he didn’t end up sorely disappointed and thoroughly vexed.

“Euphemia,” Santino repeats, looking more than pleased to savor her name. “That’s Greek, isn’t it? And your last name is...”

“Volpe,” she supplies, despite the warning bells going off in her head. She immediately regrets it. Idiot, she thinks to herself viciously, monsters love to know your name.

Santino’s expression warms. “Italian, then.”

“Yes,” Euphie replies, even though it’s not a question. She’s unaccustomed to being the center of attention at these things. “My parents have a taste for elaborate, long-winded names that people are prone to stumbling over and mispronouncing.”

A smile—one that does not look strained in the least—drags the corners of his mouth upward. He says, “It suits you,” his eyes flickering over her admiringly before he looks back to her date, feigning a grin at a joke that he makes.

They begin discussing niceties that Euphemia doesn’t care about; business, that which goes on under the Table, and yes, Euphemia is there too, but not really. She belongs to no organization, no man. She doesn’t contract work, necessarily—she gets picked up by mafiosos and gangsters that want a pretty slice of arm candy, finds ways to bleed them out just enough that they consider her an inconvenience and not a threat, and gets on with it. She’s selected by word of mouth alone, which means she has spent more time with the regulars of the underworld more than she would like.

As the old adage went, if it’s not broke...

And because she does not care about what they’re discussing—this and that, him or her, the gossip and annoyances of life under the Table—and desperately wants to get out of this dragging social obligation, Euphemia exhales a little sigh and sets her empty champagne flute on a passing tray and says, “Excuse me, I’m going to go freshen up.”

Santino’s gaze lands on her, heavy. There is something sly in his voice when he says, “Let me show you where to go, bella. It’s easy to get lost if you’ve never been here before.”

She knows where the restrooms are, because she has been here before; Santino must know this, she thinks, must be aware that this is not the same man she was with the last time they met in passing (although last time, her date had hardly deigned to introduce her, instead bustling right on to the business portion of it).

Her date is look at her expectantly, displeased that Santino has taken an interest in her but insistent that she not embarrass him by refusing a polite offer. She cannot afford to say, it’s fine, I know where to go, because men don’t like to acknowledge that Their Girl might have also been courted to attend an event with another man, once. The Russian will be in a bad mood all evening if she says that. Unfortunately for her, her particular brand of clientele are especially tedious when they’re in bad moods.

Euphemia stifles a sigh. “That’s very nice, thank you,” she murmurs, wishing desperately that she could just leave. It’s almost not worth it anymore to keep going. It would be a net loss; maybe she would be better off just eating crow and taking it.

Santino plants a hand on the small of her back and guides her out of the conversation, through the crowd of people and toward the back of the room. The low, scooping back of her dress allows him purchase to the skin there, and he takes a lot of care in guiding her—one hand on her back, the other occasionally taking her hand to wind her through the crowd, almost in a sort of waltz. Any excuse to be close to her, he takes, and even if he stops to talk to someone, his hand stays on her. A permanent fixture.

A marking of territory.

It’s always a pissing contest, with men.

She knows that the restrooms are, in fact, not this way, and for a second, she thinks about saying so—but what would be the point? To kick up a fuss now would be almost worse than breaking the magical illusion that she is there for her companion and not for his money.

“You can imagine my surprise to find you here again,” Santino says when the sounds of the party are drowned out by a closed door behind them. The quiet stillness of the hall seems to enshroud them, almost womblike; dulling out the roar of incessant chatter and elbow-rubbing and peacocking.

She keeps walking down the hall despite knowing that it’s not the direction of the restroom. A part of her hopes that if she continues to play dumb, Santino will tire of her more quickly.

And then he prompts, from behind her, “It is again, isn’t it? I could have sworn I saw you here just a few weeks ago, but you were here with...Abarca, wasn’t it?”

“Is there a point to the little thesis you’re writing out loud?” Euphemia asks coolly, not bothering to hide her irritation. She stops walking and turns to face the man, who seems quite pleased with himself; it’s his turn to move, an attempt at closing the gap between them, and each step he takes forward is a step that Euphemia inches backwards until her back hits the wall.

“My point is, Euphemia Volpe,” he rumbles, “that you might be breaking my poor friend’s heart. Can’t I be concerned about that?”

Her eyes narrow. “Your dear friend? Do you know his name?”

“Do you?” Santino replies evenly. He props a hand up on the wall beside her head, blocking her in—but while Euphie’s knee-jerk reaction is to throw up a red flag and bolt, there is something lovely about the gesture, as though he’s made their conversation that much more intimate by one single movement.

It’s dark in the hallway, dimly effused in an amber glow from lowered lights. They cast eerie, handsome shadows across Santino D’Antonio’s face. Absently, Euphie wishes she was more drunk, but she’d been taking the evening slow in preparation of disappearing from her Russian benefactor.

And no. She doesn't remember his name.

Santino seems to take her silence as affirmation, and he grins.

“Don’t worry, I won’t spill your secret,” he purrs. “If you do something for me.”

Euphemia’s mind races. She jumps to the worst case scenario immediately; but she can’t afford to think like that, can’t afford to sweat in front of the man who leans into her with all of the deadliness of a jungle cat. He’ll eat her up if she does, gnash his teeth and sink his claws in and grind her up between his molars. She’s sure of it.

Her predatory conversation partner arches a dark brow at her. He is handsome, Euphie thinks—pretty, the way an oil slick is, dark and iridescent.

“Do you agree?” he prompts. She stifles a grimace.

“Tell me what the favor is first.”

This drags a laugh out of him. “Sei una piccola volpe, aren’t you? Let loose in a hen house of idiot men.” He sounds particularly delighted by this revelation, like maybe he was worried she wouldn’t live up to his expectations. “The favor is just your favor.” He pauses and tilts his head, gauging her. “Go to dinner with me.”

It feels like a trick. It probably is a trick. She’s thinking of all the way that she can turn him down, squirm her way out of this trap that Santino—because she’s not stupid; she knows who and what he is—has laid out for her.

She’s trying to, anyway, but then Santino’s hand comes up to cradle her jaw, fingers slotting through the hair at the base of her skull, and he brushes their noses together.

“Gorgeous little fox,” Santino murmurs, his voice a pleasant rumble, crushed velvet and the sticky, dark-wet of blood. The air bubbles with a strange, hypnotic emotion, lulling her. “I think that I just have to have you. Say that you’ll come to dinner with me.”

The words send her heart fluttering. This is not the first time that a man has said such a thing to her, but it is the first time a man has said it to her this way—as though he is swallowed by his want of her.

Euphemia impulsively says, “Yes,” before she can turn the acquiescence over in her head forty times and smooth the edges down. The second the word comes out of her mouth, Santino is kissing her—electric, demanding, impatient. She’s been kissed by men many times before, and none of them like this; starved for her. She has never known she wanted someone to be driven insatiable by her presence until Santino D’Antonio is kissing her like a man incensed in a dark hallway.

I am always hungry for someone else, she has thought time and time before. I want someone to be hungry for me.

Satino bunches a fistful of velvet in his hand, gathering the fabric between his fingers at her hip and sighing, almost ruefully, like he wants to do more but he won't.

“I should take you from the idiot right now,” he says against her mouth, and he sounds almost breathless. “But I imagine you’re not through with him yet.”

It’s funny to hear him say it like that. When people look at Euphie on the arm of a Russian gangster, they think, he’s not done yet with that poor girl, but unsurprisingly, Santino sees right through it. He pulls back and gives her a half-cocked grin that’s only a little wicked.

Oh, she thinks, feeling a little more than desperate for another kiss, this was a mistake. But though a mistake he may be, Santino D’Antonio is adept at dressing himself up as a delicious one.

“No,” Euphemia replies. Her chest tightens when the warmth of his body leaves hers, pulling back, hand letting loose the fabric. “I don’t suppose that I am.”

“Then I’ll pick you up tomorrow,” Santi replies, that grin on his face not once faltering. He seems very assured that he’s going to sweep her off her feet. Absently, he reaches up and presses the pad of his thumb against her lower lip, dragging it across the skin still tender from the bruising of his kiss. “And what will you say, Euphemia Volpe, when you go back to your Russian friend and he asks you what you think of Santino D’Antonio?”

What could she say? That she wishes that he would kiss her again, the way that he just had, with longing?

“That I don’t,” Euphemia replies, her voice coming out of her silky. The words darken Santino’s gaze; he looks amused and ruffled, all at the same time. “Think of you at all.”

“Oh, that won’t do.” Santino is leaning in close again, the smell of his cologne washing over her, their lips so close they might as well be kissing. “How can I endear myself to you, belladonna?”

Euphemia knows who he is; she knows exactly the kind of man he plays at, at least in public. Even still, she wants to say something reckless, like, you could kiss me again; but she knows better than that, for now. It’s always ‘for now’, with fools.

“Don’t take me out to dinner,” she says after a heartbeat. “Cook it for me.”

Santino pauses and leans back, like maybe he was thinking she would have just asked him for another kiss, and then he laughs.

“Of course, how could I be such a fool?” He grins at her, wide and pearly-white. “Then I will pick you up tomorrow, and cook you dinner.” He starts walking down the hall, and Euphemia can’t help the disappointment that blooms warm and red in her chest, the petals unfurling and reaching each edge of her rib cage.

“You don’t have my address,” she calls after him, still leaned against the wall. Santino turns. His smile has not dimmed in the least.

“I don’t need it,” he replies back casually. “I can find you just fine.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Santino is a fine cook. By most standards, he is probably even an excellent cook, but he is a fine cook to a woman who has grown up with traditional Italian recipes that she has made most every day since she was trusted in front of the stove.

Euphie tries not to micromanage as he cooks, but it’s difficult. The man is wearing an apron over his five thousand dollar suit—probably more; she’s shooting low when she estimates that—and he lets the sauce that’s meant to simmer start boiling before he turns the heat down, and he doesn’t season his water with anything when he starts heating it up for the pasta, and Euphie just can’t stand it.

“Santino, have you ever made dinner for your family in your entire life?” she demands, nudging him out of the way and empty out half of the semi-hot water to replace it with chicken stock, setting the burner up again.

“No, darling,” he replies amusedly, watching her fuss over the sauce. “Just you.”

She stops. It shouldn’t be sweet—it is Santino, after all—but it is. He does a very good job of being the unassuming viper in this situation, she thinks. So she continues what she’s doing, keeping her hands and her eyes and mouth busy because if she doesn’t, they’ll find ways to busy themselves.

“This was supposed to be you making me dinner,” she chides, “not me teaching you how to cook. I think that it will take a lot of making up for me to—”

Santino’s hand tilts her face to him, and he leans down and kisses her. It’s softer than how he’d kissed her in the hallway, but it doesn’t lack the urgency. He still feels hungry.

She’s dreadfully caught up in it, letting him come back a second and then a third time, letting the flicker of his tongue against her lips part them obediently, letting the gentle reprimand of his teeth in her lower lip inspire a little noise out of her. It’s somehow too long and not enough, and when Euphemia drops the spoon on the counter to grip the front of Santino’s shirt (apron), his hands go to her hips.

“Sit down,” he orders playfully against her mouth, “and let me cook for you. And then we will see who will be doing the making-up, won’t we?”

Euphemia has half a mind to tell him to forget dinner—turn the burners off, she wants to say, and kiss me like that again, but more, and everywhere, and and and—but the competitor in her won’t let go. She exhales a short, impatient breath and says, “Fine, but you are on thin ice, amico.”

He laughs and shuffles her away from the stove to a stool at the kitchen island. In what can only be an effort to properly shmooze her, he follows it up with a glass of wine presented neatly in front of her, glittering-ruby, before returning to his half-done dinner on the stove.

“Amico, huh?” The dark-honey blonde glances over his shoulder at her. “Do you kiss all of your friends like that, Euphemia Volpe?”

The words send a pleased little flurry through her chest. As she watches him over her glass of wine, she replies, “Only the very handsome ones.”

When the food is served up, they don't bother going to the dining table. In Santino's loft, it appears that the dining table likely goes without much use, despite it being seated for a full party of people; instead, they stay at the kitchen island, and Santino deposits the apron on the counter before he leans against the edge of the island.

“You are a hard woman to track down, Euphemia,” Santino says, reaching over and scooping and olive off of her plate for himself. She makes an affronted noise.

“I thought you would have no trouble finding me?”

“I did not anticipate you were so efficient at covering your tracks.” He smiles, watching her across the countertop. “No family in New York. No employment history. Rent paid in cash. Most frequently spotted at the Continental, too, but otherwise your recreational hours are spent entertaining influential figureheads. If I did not know any better, I would think you were preparing to disappear.”

Euphemia shrugs. It would be unsettling, that he went digging on her, but she supposes that's life under the Table. It's not as though she anticipated he wouldn't, anyway.

“You are obsessed with me, Santi, it's alright, you can say,” she demurs. It's easier than saying I never want to have to try very hard to disappear.

He grins at her. “Maybe I am just offended that you never offered me your services.” And then, as though to be a good sport: “Because I am obsessed with you, Euphemia Volpe.”

She takes a sip of her wine, sets the glass down on the countertop, and plants her chin in her hand to regard him. His gaze is playful; he looks almost earnest about his words, even though she'd said them in jest. At any rate, it's a relief to have navigated the prying, for the moment.

Euphemia says, “How were you able to focus on cooking when you have me here, then?”

There is a crooked little smile on his face at her words, a smile that she can only see for half of a moment before he says, “Don’t you know the saying?” He leans in and tilts her chin up with his fingers, his gaze sweeping her, as though to admire the most opulent work of art.

“Senza tentazioni, senza onore.”

[izlaria]

Someone you like (part 1)

This work is inspired by the animatic called Someone you like by honestlyprettychill. I don’t know if I’ll have the energy to do all of the povs showcased in the video, but I just really loved the idea that Lance would eventually come to like Pidge, a romance born from  years of friendship. Friends to lovers is my jam.

I’m posting this on tumblr in case I never finish it, because I just wanted to share what I’ve written so far. I might upload the whole thing to AO3 later.

I made some changes to the video’s initial idea, because I wanted to follow canon ages and I didn’t want a 14-year-old to fall for a 12-year-old. At that time, it’s a pretty big difference in development. So I wanted to establish the basis for Lance to eventually romanticize their first encounter, despite not having been attracted to young Katie.

Spanish to English translations at the end.

14 years old

The truth was that Lance went to Space Camp because Veronica could be a little pest. She knew their parents wouldn’t let her go alone and so had enticed her younger brother with the promise of travel and foreign girls and no parental supervision.

Veronica had obviously left out the fact that they were essentially going to school on steroids for a month, smack in the middle of their summer break. Cool as Miami might seem, Lance wasn’t exactly excited for all the extra work the camp would entail.

“No es un acampamiento,” his sister repeated for what felt like the thousandth time. He wasn’t listening anymore. “Tú sabes que el campo de explotación espacial no está muy desenvuelto en Cuba. Si realmente quieres trabajar con eso, entonces simplemente cállate y no insultes a nadie.”

“¿Cuando he insultado a alguien?” he shot back, defensive. Veronica didn’t dignify that with an answer.

As much as Lance might like to think himself very smooth, there were still times when he stumbled over his words, especially in English. More than once he’d meant to pay someone a compliment and had accidentally started an argument of some kind.

Veronica looked impatiently at her watch. “Mira, tengo una reunión con mi orientador. Y tú tienes por lo menos dos artículos para leer para las clases de mañana, ¿por qué no vas a la biblioteca para trabajar un poco? Prometo comprarte una hamburguesa después.”

Lance pouted at her, arms crossed over his chest. “Me debes más que una hamburguesa y lo sabes, Ronie.”

His sister snickered, but it was as much of an acknowledgement as he was going to get. Veronica pressed a quick kiss to his hair, already turning to go into the main building.

“¡Gracias, hermanito! ¡No te arrepentirás!”

In all honesty, Lance wasn’t as irritated as he made Veronica believe. He knew that a summer program in Miami was a really good opportunity, especially if he wanted to get into the Garrison in the following years. It was just difficult.

He was diligent and studious, but not as naturally gifted as some of the other kids. Besides, he hadn’t been to the US in a couple years, since his parents had mostly settled down in the family farm, which meant he still had to fall back into his English, a task made even more frustrating by the xenophobic comments from one of the boys in his AP geometry class.

The teacher had put an end to it right away, but the words stuck with Lance, for some reason.

With how much humanity had progressed in terms of technology, one would think they would be able to get past petty rivalry between nationalities and usually that was true, but the influx of foreigners following the establishment of the Galaxy Garrison in the US desert still annoyed some people, despite its existence as a multinational center for space exploration. It irritated Lance to no end, especially when so many of these scientific advances came from international collaboration.

If only he could shrug off the inadequacy that now grew in his chest.

Straight ahead, there was a path that led to a green area in the middle of the campus. The other students had taken to calling it the Woods, though it was more of a middle-sized park, with benches and picnic tables where anyone from the Institute could go to relax. That’s where Lance went, mind too full to really focus on homework.

He wondered if people would react that same way if he ever made it into the Garrison. He didn’t know how Veronica dealt with it all, especially when she was alone in Arizona most of the time. Barely a week had passed and Lance already missed his parents, the tenderness of home-cooked food and well-intended lectures.

No, he had to believe that Billy Underwood was an exception. The other kids hadn’t joined in on his taunts, even if no one had moved to defend Lance. It was still too early to make conclusions on his colleagues, especially when everyone had seemed so charmed by him before then.

Lance was so lost in thought that he didn’t realize he had been standing in front of one of the benches until a new voice broke through the peace of the park.

“Are you just gonna stand there?”

The words were somewhat harsh, but when Lance lowered his eyes to their source the girl winced, grimacing. She seemed to have spoken impulsively.

“Hmm, yeah.” Lance blinked at her for a moment, before finally sitting down on the bench. He made sure to leave space between him and the girl, not wanting to make the situation even more awkward.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you,” the girl said after a moment of silence. She looked at him sideways and her brown eyes seemed almost golden in the sunlight. There were freckles spread across the bridge of her nose and across her cheeks, and the green ribbon in her hair swayed in the wind. It was a soft sight, a contrast to the steeliness of her posture and gaze.

“It’s fine,” Lance hurried to assure her. She looked young, but so did he, and talking to complete strangers never failed to make him nervous. “Nothing like a little girl yelling at me to bring me back to earth.”

He gave her his best grin, the one reserved for first impressions and fancy parties. It was supposed to project confidence and kindness, even though Luis said he ended up looking a bit smug.

“I didn’t yell,” the girl pointed out with a light frown. Then her eyes shifted into a more calculating look. “You’re a bit of a goofball, aren’t you?”

“I prefer the term good-humored,” he replied jokingly.

She continued to stare. Lance got the feeling that the girl did this a lot. She had an untamed intelligence to her that Lance couldn’t completely understand. It was the sort of air that teachers sometimes carried, as if they could see something deeper in you if they looked long enough.

“It didn’t seem like you were feeling all that good-humored just now.” She tilted her head to the side, letting the words hang between them.

“Yeah, I suppose that’s true,” Lance found himself saying.

“Do you… want to talk about it?” She looked so doubtful that it almost made Lance laugh. The feeling, however, was overcome by the relief of finally having someone who would listen.

He had spent the week trying and failing to explain to Veronica what was truly making him feel down. She was too busy or too happy for Lance to tell her the truth, especially when it left him so vulnerable. After all, Veronica had taken to her work on the Institute like a fish to water. Lance was supposed to be more adaptable than this.

With the rest of his family away in Cuba, he felt unbearably lonely.

“Yes! Thank you!” Lance shifted in the bench to face the girl. She was taken aback by his enthusiasm, but didn’t move away. “There’s this cabrón in my class, who thought it was a good idea to mess with me, just ‘cause I said fábrica instead of factory in our first day here. He hasn’t really left me alone since…” he whined. “I speak two languages but somehow I’m the uneducated ass here!”

The girl nodded, eyes downcast. “I know what you mean.”

“You do?” He eyed the fairness of her skin and the almost ginger of her hair. “Sorry, but you look white.”

Lance’s comment must have taken her by surprise, because she actually laughed.

“I am white. I’m also Italian.” She rolled her eyes, but there was amusement in the tug of her lips. “I can be both.”

“That’s true.” Lance grinned sheepishly. It was good that she wasn’t offended by his lack of filter. “You don’t have much of an accent, though.”

“Neither do you,” the girl bit back, no real animosity in her tone.

He shrugged. “My family spent a lot of time in the US when I was younger. It used to be second nature to me. Now, I keep feeling like I have to hold back the instinct to roll my R’s.”

“I get that. My parents moved here right after I was born, but we used to speak Italian in the house.” There was a pause here, something that she couldn’t bring herself to say. “I think it’s cool that you can speak Spanish. It’s useful.”

“Yeah?” Lance sat up straight, feeling suddenly boastful.

“Sure!” she continued, encouraged by his interest. “The Bouman Aeronautics Research Institute really values multiculturalism! It is a hob of different nationalities and perspectives, created to foster new minds from around the world! Or that’s what my brother says, at least, and he is rarely wrong.” She gave him a smirk that quickly shifted into a grimace. “Don’t tell him I said that or he will never let me forget it.”

“Older brother?” At her nod, Lance smiled. “I got older siblings too. Sort of the reason I’m here in the first place, actually. One of them was accepted as a researcher and she tricked me into applying too.”

“Same, actually.” She seemed startled for a moment, pulling out her cellphone. “Freak, I have to go! I completely lost track of time while reading.” She got up to go, collecting the book she’d apparently put down to talk to him. It was a thick volume with numbers on the cover, but it didn’t look like math.

Another green ribbon fluttered to the ground, having escaped the pages of the book. Lance bent down to pick it up.

“Here.” He stretched it out to the girl. “Wouldn’t want to lose its pair,” he said with a wink.

“Thanks for reminding me!” She grabbed the ribbon hurriedly, then paused, turning back to Lance. “And for the conversation, I guess.”

Lance grinned at her. She was a little awkward but in an endearing way, like she wasn’t used to having the attention of others on her. Given she empathized with his circumstances in the Institute, it wasn’t that big of a leap to assume that she had trouble making friends.

“Bye bye, Italian girl.” He waved, glad that he could spend these few minutes with her.

“Farewell, Spanish boy.”

Lance meant to correct her about his nationality, but she took out running, clearly late for something. He laughed at the way she stumbled across the uneven ground, careless like a little kid. It was a strange juxtaposition: the thoughtfulness of her earlier words and the childishness of her smile now.

He settled back into the bench, feeling much more content than he’d been earlier. It was nice to talk to people outside of class, for a change.

And, well, Italian girl was pretty. A bit young-looking for him, but he thought guys her age should be tripping over their feet for a chance to talk to her.

“Hey, you’re Lance, right?” A boy had approached while Lance observed the girl disappear from sight. He was tall and robust, with shortly cropped hair, but his expression was friendly. “You’re in my Analytics class.”

It took Lance a second to place him. Analytics was one of the classes Lance struggled with the most, so he hadn’t had as much opportunity to joke around there.

“And you’re Hunk!” Lance snapped his fingers, smiling. “Sit down, man! What can I do for ya?”

Translations:

“No es un acampamiento.Tú sabes que el campo de explotación espacial no está muy desenvuelto en Cuba. Si realmente quieres trabajar con eso, entonces simplemente cállate y no insultes a nadie.” - “It’s not a camp. You know that the field of space exploration is not very well developped in Cuba. If you really do want to work in this area, then simply shut up and don’t insult anyone.”

“¿Cuando he insultado a alguien?” - “When have I insulted anyone?”

“Mira, tengo una reunión con mi orientador. Y tú tienes por lo menos dos artículos para leer para las clases de mañana, ¿por qué no vas a la biblioteca para trabajar un poco? Prometo comprarte una hamburguesa después.” - “Look, I have a meeting with my coordinator. And you have at least two articles to read for tomorrow’s classes. Why don’t you go work for a bit in the library? I promise to buy you a burger later.”

“Me debes más que una hamburguesa y lo sabes, Ronie.” - “You owe me more than a burger and you know it, Ronie.”

“¡Gracias, hermanito! ¡No te arrepentirás!” - “Thank you, little brother! You won’t regret it!”

Cabrón - Bastard

[abbacchios-sunflower]

Welcome Aboard Part 2

The second half of my collab with @dongiovannaswife ! Thank you so much again Lena for doing this with me, I had sm fun! <3<3 ^o^

*****

“Sooo, what’s he like anyways? Your boss? Giorno you said his name was?”

 “Hmm? Oh, yeah, Giorno’s a fair guy, really smart, kinda scary to most people who meet him for the first time, but he’s one of my best friends, great guy,” Mista leaned back in his seat, arms folded, knees crossed as he looked to Marissa. “To be honest I don’t know why he needs bodyguards, his stand is probably the scariest thing I’ve ever seen.”

 “Hmm, I see,” she looked out the window as they drove on what felt to be forever. “He’s kind of mad I got involved, huh? Is he even going to like me? I’d rather not get shot in the head for walking in on mafia business, you know?”

 Bruno closed his laptop, tucking it away as they were going to be arriving soon, “Just like Mista said, he’s a very fair guy, we’ve known him for a long time now; he’s just very protective over his famiglia and doesn’t like civilians getting tied up in our business, doesn’t think it’s right. I’m sure he’ll be very welcoming when meeting you.”

 “Yeah; exactly! It’s not like it’s your fault you almost got sliced up by that dickwad we were chasing!” Narancia interjected.

 Fugo rolled his eyes, “Yes well, you didn’t have to be such a blabbermouth and tell her we were the mafia, Giorno has the biggest problem with you doing that if anything.” He looked across to Marissa as well, “he’ll probably ask questions about your stand, what your intentions are, you’ll be fine, try not to worry too much about it, all of us here got roped into the mafia at young ages and we did just fine,” the blond checked his phone.

 Well, yeah, of course it was easy to tell someone not too worry when this has been your norm for like, ten years. The newcomer folded her arms, stretching her legs out in the back seat of the car. “Alright I guess.” Maybe she was starting to regret the decision to come. When her parents had said to “branch out and meet new people'', but this probably wasn’t what they meant, oh well she was kind of stuck in the situation now, might as well see where this all goes. Worse case scenario she probably would just go back home.

 “Just be grateful you don’t have to do the lighter test to get your stand and we discontinued that kind of stuff; that was so nerve wracking, I thought I was a goner!!” Narancia rubbed his neck nervously.

 “Lighter test?”

 “It’s how things used to be done, though some of us already had our stands by the time we joined, you see,” Bruno had explained. “Mista and Abbacchio both had manifested their stands by the time I had found them, not everyone needs to pass the arrow’s test to get one. It’s a topic Giorno and his family are highly interested in actually.”

 “Oh?” Marissa looked to Abbacchio who was sitting in the front seat. In the few days she had known these five men; it was probably him that she knew least of. He was even more closed off and disgruntled than Fugo, barely speaking a word to her unless they were bickering about something.

 “Hey guys, maybe you shouldn’t be telling her everything about us, she’s still an outsider in case you forgot about that; I doubt Giorno would like you guys running your mouths more than you should, he’s already probably pissed,” the goth grumbled, looking back from the passenger’s seat.

 Bruno has a teasing smirk, leaning back, “And since when you were so interested in obeying what Giorno says? Hmm? I thought you liked being difficult with him.”

 “You’re just lucky he always trusts your judgment, Consigliere, or else he probably wouldn’t have even wanted to meet her,” Abbacchio sarcastically snapped back. Bruno had rolled his eyes.

 “You’re still just sore that I didn’t tell you about why I brought him into Passione in the first place all those years ago,” Bruno chuckled, “but that’s a story for another time, perhaps Giorno would like to tell you himself,” the leader pleasantly smiled. “Now, we’re almost there,” he regained Marissa’s attention. “I don’t care what you’ve heard from any of us, you’re going to refer to him just as Don Giovanna, okay?” she nodded stiffly. “I take it we can trust you to be respectful?”

 “Hmm? Oh yeah, of course!!” she straightened up in her seat; the anxiety was definitely setting in now. This was probably— definitely a mistake. How did she always get into weird and scary messes with people?

 *****

 The estate was huge, yeah; surely the Don of the mafia and his most trusted men stayed there. Mista was the one to open the door first and stroll on in, followed by the others. “We’re baaaaack!” He loudly announced. “Oh Trishy? Did ya miss us?!” He confidently smirked as footsteps approached.

 “I’ve been wondering when you would be back, I’m still bummed out I didn’t get to go…” a young woman with pink hair slowly came to a stop as she looked past the men, seeing the shorter woman with them. “Dio mio- when I said to bring me back a souvenir, I didn’t mean kidnap a local!” She folded her arms, narrowing her eyes at the gunslinger.

 “Relax, she just got caught up in our bullshit, she’s a stand user and Bucciarati was interested in her stand and thought Giogio would be too, said he wanted to meet her when we were on our way over!”

 “Speaking of that, I already finished the reports from this job, we burned down the warehouse, not a trace of the drugs left, same with Emiliano,” Fugo held up a small folder.

 The young woman’s face relaxed more as she exhaled, taking the file and extending a hand to the newcomer, “Trish Una, I know how it feels to get swept up into trouble by these assholes, they don’t bite though, I promise, well, maybe Abba will if you provoke him enough, but he’s a bit of a softy under the fangs,” she smirked when Abbacchio looked disgruntled by the use of the nickname and teasing in front of the other woman who was smirking back at him now.

 “Abba, huh?” she raised a dark eyebrow, smirking as well.

 “That’s just “Abbacchio” to you, brat,” he snapped back.

 Rolling her eyes, she ignored the threat and took Trish’s hand, “Marissa, but uh, you guys can just call me Mar, all my friends do, it’s easier in my opinion,” she tilted her head back and forth. “So are you, like, a stand user too?”

 “Got that right, most of us are,” Trish pulled her hand back, gesturing to follow her, “come on, they’re right this way! They’ve been expecting you!”

 “They?” Mar blinked.

 “Oh, of course, the Donna will be there too naturally, she’s a lovely lady, Giorno’s lucky to have her for sure. She’s very interested in you too; I’m sure you guys will be great friends if you’re to stay with us! Also, we better get you Italian lessons if that’s gonna happen, luckily a lot of us speak English pretty well too,” Trish stopped talking and turned to face a set of doors, knocking twice. “Don Giovanna, Bucciarati is back, Fugo already finished his reports.” She announced.

 “And is she with them?” A male voice came from behind the door.

 “Right next to me!” Trish replied.

 “Well, send her in then.”

 *****

 Trish Una turns to Mar, a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes directed on her way as she opens the door, holding it open for her. “Good luck.” She mouths right when Mar walks by her side, closing the door at her back.

 The office looks like a lawyer’s would; bookshelves around the room are filled with all kinds of books; from astrology to philosophy, biology, medicine, math. All the knowledge the human race had cultivated through centuries seemed to rest there, in a silent office where only the light of the window pooled in, illuminating it just in the right amount.

 “Please take a seat, would you like something to drink?” a feminine voice, soft and gentle, breaks the silence.

 Marissa’s head snaps towards the source of the sound.

 In the couch where the sunlight is gentler, a woman sits, a glass of liquor suspended between her fingers. Her short black dress hugs her figure in a comfortable way —and the dark purple cloak resting on her shoulders, huge and almost drowning her makes it clear the garment is not hers, both from its size and the cut.

 Her red lips curl upwards in a genuine kind smile when Marissa and her make eye contact.

Nodding her head, her curls move along her head, strangely giving her that aura of mysteriousness. “Don’t be shy.”

 “Sit down.” the male voice is there again, this time, coming from the desk. Just when Marissa looks on, a blond man stands up, all six foot six of him towering and blocking the sunlight from the window. As he moves on, his features and figure become clearer: short blond hair that reaches the nape of his neck, piercing green eyes and lips in a tight line, and a strong, imposing built. Hands inside the pockets of his burgundy suit —the black shirt underneath the suit jacket glistens with something underneath, a shape unknown to most —but to him, the rumble of the arrow lets him know this is a stand user standing before him.

 “We were told about the incident.” He starts, not expecting an answer from her until he rounds the couch, coming to sit down besides his wife and circling her shoulders with one arm as the other extends forward, signaling her. “And we wanted to talk about it.”

 Mar nods, quickly walking in and sitting down at the couch before the couple.

 Their glances feel like an ice cube and a flame at the same time but even then, she still finds the courage to look at them in the eyes before centering her attention in a spot above their heads, where her voice doesn’t quiver when she speaks.

 “I was the one who asked,” she starts, quickly correcting herself as her fingers fiddle with her clothes. “I wanted to know what it was —just a part, because the rest was obvious.”

 Giorno hums, “First things first, what’s your name?”

 Marissa gulps down, feeling the man’s gaze harden when her reply doesn’t come immediately; naturally, one would expect this question to be answered right there.

 “Marissa.”

 Giorno nods, curtly: all business. “Well then, nice to meet you. She’s my wife and the Donna of the famiglia —I suppose you already know who I am, don’t you?”

 Lena nods, raising her glass shortly —making the Don tone it down. “Please make yourself at home.”

 “Thank you, Don, Donna.”

 “Now,” Giorno doesn’t let silence settle in, “There is something we need to talk about first; we have a strong policy to not get civilians involved in our… Matters. You were a special case, and before we start, you’re totally free to choose and swear silence over this. If you do, you can go home right now, and you won’t talk about this —not the police, not your family, not your lover, no one at all. Is that what you want?”

 Marissa opens her mouth to reply when Lena raises a hand up, her palm open and exposed towards her —perhaps a blind body language sign.

 “Think about it. We won’t go anywhere.”

 And this time the rest is silence.

 As Marissa’s head spins with thoughts and questions, her eyes go back and forth between the couple and the literal library around them, the sound of birds chirping outside and the water in the fountain falling. The distant sound of male laughter and the following hush to it.

For fucks sake, she had come here without a purpose. It was all a mere impulse to go out and explore, find new things, meet people perhaps.

 But the Italian mafia was a whole other level of her mom’s phrase. It was crazy.

  “Listen,” she says, making the couple’s ears peek immediately as they look back from each other’s faces —their quiet conversation forgotten immediately. “If you’re trying to embed another question about my reason to be here I’m gonna be sincere with you, I don’t know what I want from this, but I’m not your enemy. Hell, I’m just a girl from a damn boring town.”

 Giorno nods, tilting his head to the side slightly. “That does answer one question, but not the other.”

Marissa sighs, “I want to stay.”

 “Why?” Lena shoots back, leaning forward to place her glass into the coffee table. The liquor left there is now ignored.

 “I don’t know.” Marissa repeats, trying to bite back her annoyance —she had already said it.

 Lena hums, a sweet smile making its way into her lips; the situation makes it feel like a venomous one. “Mar,” she stops for a second, giving her the time to correct her in case the nickname does not match her taste. “There is always a reason for everything; you want to stay, and there must be a reason for it. Everyone here has one.” She gestures around with one hand, recalling some of their most loyal men. “Loyalty, money, a lost cause, redemption, a golden heart. Everyone has a reason; and all of them are valid. As long as the interests match, then there is no way we won’t let you in.”

 Giorno’s gaze comes back from outside, a solution on the back of his mind. “Let’s do something; we will proceed with your test,” if he noticed Mar’s stiff shoulders at the word ‘test’ he played an excellent act when he didn’t react to her reaction. “And by the time we’re done, the last question will be your reason to be here.”

 “Sounds good,” Lena speaks up. “Shall we start, then?”

 Mar hums, gulping down.

 “What are your views on law and justice? Is it true or just another circus?” Giorno leans back, chest puffed out in pride.

 Mar huffs, almost rolling her eyes. Now that she has found her physical reactions don’t seem to have an effect on them, the will to be herself comes back slowly but surely. “Money. If you have the money, then there is no way you’ll put a foot in jail; no one will be able to find out about your actions, unless you want them to.”

 “And what if you don’t have the money and you are not the culprit but you find yourself in jail?”

 “Then… Someone who doesn’t want you out there got you there with their influences.”

 “I see,” Giorno nods, eyes falling into the window once again. Thoughtful. “What would you do to escape if you found yourself in that position?”

 “Let’s be real, any person who knows about this kind of business will be killed in no time: the news and the police will say they took their own lives. But we all know the government doesn’t want to be seen as a traitor to the people they swore justice and truth to. So they will kill them and make it seem like a suicide, they will pay and eliminate anyone who dares say otherwise,” Mar looks up, almost as if looking into the white celling will give her the answers. “The only way to escape is paying, as I said before, anyone will do whatever they can to grasp a few more bucks into their hands, even if that means letting go someone important under the lie of an escape.”

 Lena nods, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “But… Most people in the government are there because some of them have been put there by us.”

 Mar nods, humming along. “And that’s why you’ll probably never find yourselves there, because those men are working for you. They owe you one, that’s it.”

 Giorno turns to Mar, smirking slightly. “That’s right. Then, next question —Will you commit murder? Whatever your impulse is from these two; orders or will, never from liking —would you do it? And who would it be?”

 Mar’s lips end up pressed together for a moment —her eyes go around the room until her sight falls outside; the sun is gone, hidden by grey clouds. Even the birds have gone silent. The only sound is the water fountain still working.

 Looking on, Mar stares into Giorno’s eyes, then into Lena’s, replying in a firm, concise tone. “Well, as far as the rich and powerful that get away with horrific crimes? Anyone who takes advantage of the weak? I don’t care about what happens to them and I’d gladly set them on fire without thinking twice if given the opportunity.”

 The couple before her don’t reply, turning to look at each other —right there, Mar can see the deep connection between them, as the simple glance into each other’s eyes proves to be enough to communicate; only a small smile from Lena and her nod, and Giorno turn to her again.

“That does actually match with our interests —you’ve got one point there.”

 Lena nods, speaking up. “Next question, Mar, and this one is my favorite; are we born good or evil? Do we turn evil, or perhaps good, as time goes by?”

 Mar nods to herself, replying shortly after —eyes going between them in a simple conversational gesture, out of nervousness or insecurity. Despite the topic, it already seems like everyone there is comfortable with each other’s presence. “As far as that whole debate, well, everyone has some kind of baggage; people are just people. You have to make the conscious decision every single day of what kind of person you want to be. People who come from bad homes either choose to rise above it and be ‘good’ or they’ll choose to use it as an excuse to hurt others because they were hurting. Regardless, yeah, at the end of the day, there’s always a choice that has to be made.” She shrugs her shoulders a little.

 Giorno nods, humming low. The sound spark’s Mar’s attention.

 But his last question is not expected.

 “Usually, we ask more, but you’ve surprised us —last question; what is your will, if you ever form part of the famiglia?”

 After a moment of hesitation, considering all the previous answers she had given, she looks back up, finally thinking she had a solid, cohesive answer to give. “To be honest I’ve been kicked around all my life, I was never taken seriously, I hated being ignored, and in turn I hate seeing others face injustice. I even considered a job in criminology at one point; my dad always thought I should have been a lawyer or went to work for some behavioral analysis unit, ya’know, FBI stuff,” she licks her bottom lip as she starts off. “But like I said earlier, it’s all corrupt at some level, the law, all the red tape and bullshit rules, that’s why I stopped trying to pursue the idea of becoming a profiler, it frustrated me to see people manipulating the system.”

 Letting a few beats go, she continued on, “That said, one might say I have a moral flexibility problem and I don’t like playing by rules that are designed to protect the corrupt, my ideals of justice aren’t really what the government is interested in. Sadly, for me, that means I’ve never really fit in anywhere, never had much of a plan after I realized I couldn’t stick with a job I had thought I wanted.” She looked down at her feet again, “That’s why, when I ran into your guys pursuing that drug dealer this week, I guess I figured it was a sign that maybe there could be a place for me, after all, it doesn’t seem like any of you had much success being on the side of government or law enforcement.”

 Folding her arms, she looked back at the Don of Passione, “I guess that’s why I want in; if you guys could find a place and purpose being here, why not me too?”

 Giorno’s eyes bore into Marissa’s, cold and empty of anything but plain green pools accentuated with yellow bits.

 The Donna leans back as a single chain enveloped in red energy emerges from her palm. It flicks, filling the room with the sound of clicking metal.

 Rising a hand up just when one of the chain’s links rests there, surrounded by a brighter tone of red, turning orange briefly just when another hand, humanoid and clearly not hers, but her stand’s, touches the object, producing a creak that echoes and bounces around the walls.

 And as soon as it came it’s gone; the sound, the stand’s arm and its glow, everything’s gone and now, in the Donna’s palm rests an insignia. She leans forward now, with Giorno’s eyes on both women as he watches the moment through proud and calm eyes.

 “Welcome, Marissa. Wear this and serve loyally for our cause, which is just.”

Giorno speaks up just when Marissa leans forward to take the insignia, “You will be assigned to an area with a Caporegime, and will work for them, understood?”

 Marissa nods, taking the insignia from Lena’s palm. “Understood, boss.” She looks down at the golden object —it’s not that heavy, but it does have a certain weight, taking in consideration it’s apparently made of pure gold; the arrow that crosses the small button has what seems to be an insect, whose form is palpable.

 “Please, wait outside; we’ll send someone to lead you into an apartment soon. And Mar?”

 Mar stands up, freezing and turning back to the Donna. “Yes, boss?”

 “I can assure you you’re part of this now, you’re not an outsider anymore.” 

 Mar nods, sighing in something she can’t say —turning around, she doesn’t fail to notice the sun back again, the birds flying out the mansion’s garden and the fountain still there, functioning as if nothing happened. Where a world keeps going, her world seems to stop; or maybe time passes slower, she couldn’t know what was it, but everything felt different the moment she closed the door at her back.

[dianashiori]

How is Sebastián hiding his second life with (Tn)? / ¿Cómo es Sebastián escondiendo su segunda vida con (Tn)?

English Version:

In the first place, he prefers to keep his affairs and personal life private, in the second place Sebastián will not tolerate that his lover is put in a compromising situation, he prefers that both worlds where he lives are separated and so everything is easier, on the one hand it is a perfect butler, but on the other hand he is a loving and passionate lover, third and last, he hates sharing his beloved, he has to tolerate sharing her with his family, friends and the people of the city, as if to have to add another intruder more to the equation.

His beloved knows that Sebastián is a butler, he knows that sometimes Sebastián will not come home for a few days, he knows that sometimes he will only see him for a few hours a day and above all he knows that his lover is a demon.

But she still decided to continue by her lover's side, waiting for him every night sitting on her sofa, reading one of her favorite books, she had an unspeakable secret that she only enjoyed when her lover was away, she went around the house without her underwear , only with his clothes to walk around the house.

Sebastian on the other hand did a search of at least 5 kilometers around his little abode to make sure that nobody was following him and to make sure that nobody had discovered his traps, which were a secret even from his little girlfriend. He passed through various places checking each and every one of the traps, none triggered, luckily, it was then that he walked along the small stone path that led him to the clearing where his house was built.

The demon still remembered how he had proposed to his beloved to live together. The girl's family had been against her relationship with Sebastián, as the girl made the mistake of mentioning that they did not plan to marry because he did not believe in any religion that could offer a wedding between them. What caused an awakening of traditions and religious sentimentality that hammered the peace of both at the time of their "appointments" in the light of day. Taking Sebastián to propose to his beloved to live together as a couple, with the girl immediately accepting.

After that proposal Sebastián was in charge of preparing everything for his little plan, he built a small but comfortable house for both of them. He instructed his beloved not to go out on another path other than the stone path, warning her of the hidden animal traps in the area. He strictly forbade him to bring other people home, assuring him that only in an emergency could he reveal the location of the same.

The demonized butler told him about his master's enemies and that because of that he could not bring anyone home and watch his steps back home when he was not around.

The young woman gladly accepted, because with the passage of time Sebastián proved to be a very affectionate and passionate lover that allowed her to maintain her freedom, something that was denied on many occasions at her parents' house, the girl could dress as her She felt like having her hair down, sleeping late on weekends, hanging out with friends, and reading whatever book she'd like without having to ask permission. In short, there was no one to deny him freedom.

At night Sebastian would come home to his beloved after making sure to clean up the area full of intruders in the mansion. The young woman was waiting for him with the open book and resting on her belly that rose and fell due to her calm breathing, she was so asleep that she did not hear Sebastian announce his arrival.

Seeing her in front of him brought back that feeling of satisfaction and satiety that he had carried within him since he left his small house the previous morning. It was his addiction to that small but beautiful body that made him want to go home. Only the kittens managed to calm that hunger of their beloved a little, which is why he appreciated them more if possible. He took her in his arms and carried her to the bed, where he gently slid her under the covers. He took off part of his clothes until he was in pants and his white shirt. He settled behind his mistress and hugged her from behind to draw her to him and press his nose to her neck where he took a deep breath.

If the other demons knew the reason why he was subjected to a romantic relationship with a human they would laugh, but he did not care, as any drug addict would never give up his vice for the opinion of others. He was so distracted in his little ecstasy that he did not He noticed that his beloved began to turn to steal a kiss on the tip of his nose, puzzling him a bit.

-Do you like the smell of my hair?

-I love.

-You had a lot of work?

-No, just the usual, that and having to count the hours to see you.

-I also missed you a lot.

-Not as much as me.

He proceeded to kiss her and attract more of the young woman's body to his, he loved being able to hug her, because that was when he could hear that hypnotizing beat so close to her body that he managed to make him sigh. Although they had not maintained intimacy yet, there was something that aroused Sebastian's interest because of that low instinct to which he was accustomed, a simple kiss, mouth to mouth, would be enough to ignite his desire and curiosity to know what it would feel like to be inside his most addictive drug.

A simple human completely altered the patience and temperature of the demon that lay hugging and kissing her as if it were the last time.

A rude noise was heard from outside his abode, * clack * was heard again followed by a scream that only the demon heard as if he had him by his side, but that the human in his arms heard in the distance, which was where there was the seized man who had dared to pry into his hiding place.

-I think you should go see who it was.

-I will if when I come back you confess why you are at home without underwear.

-How did you know?

The demon just smiled and slid his hand down his girlfriend's leg and stopped before reaching the start of his lover's hip.

Versión Español:

En primer lugar, prefiere mantener sus asuntos y vida personal en privado, en segundo lugar Sebastián no tolerará que su amante sea puesta en una situación comprometida, prefiere que ambos mundos dónde vive estén separados y así todo sea más fácil, por un lado es un mayordomo perfecto, pero por otro es un amante amoroso y apasionado, en tercer y último lugar, detesta compartir a su amada, tiene que tolerar compartirla con su familia, sus amigos y la gente de la ciudad, como para tener que sumar otro intruso más a la ecuación.

Su amada sabe que Sebastián es un mayordomo, sabe que a veces Sebastián no llegará a casa por unos cuantos días, sabe que a veces solo lo verá por pocas horas al día y sobre todo sabe que su amante es un demonio.

Pero ella aun así decidió seguir al lado de su amado, esperándolo todas las noches sentada en su sofá, leyendo uno de sus libros favoritos, tenía un secreto inconfesable del cual solo disfrutaba cuando su amado no estaba, iba por la casa sin su ropa interior, solo con su ropa de andar por casa.

Sebastián por otro lado hacia una revisión de por lo menos 5 kilómetros alrededor de su pequeña morada para asegurarse de que nadie lo estuviera siguiendo y para asegurarse de que nadie había descubierto sus trampas, las cuales eran un secreto incluso para su pequeña novia. Paso por varios lugares revisando todas y cada una de las trampas, ninguna accionada, por suerte, fue entonces que camino por el sendero pequeño de piedra que lo llevaba hacía el claro donde su casa estaba construida.

El demonio aún recordaba como le había propuesto a su amada vivir juntos. La familia de la chica habían estado en contra de su relación con Sebastián, pues la chica cometió el error de mencionar que no planeaban casarse porque él no era creyente de ninguna religión que pudiera ofrecer una boda entre ambos. Lo que provocó un despertar de tradiciones y sentimentalismo religioso que martillo la paz de ambos a la hora de sus “citas” a la luz del día. Llevando a Sebastián a proponerle a su amada vivir juntos como una pareja, con la chica aceptando inmediatamente.

Después de aquella propuesta Sebastián se encargó de preparar todo para su pequeño plan, construyó una casa pequeña pero cómoda para ambos. Instruyó a su amada para que no saliera por otro caminó que no fuera el camino de piedras, advirtiéndole de las trampas de animales escondidas por la zona. Le prohibió terminantemente traer a otras personas a casa, asegurándole que solo en caso de emergencia podía revelar la ubicación de la misma.

El endemoniado mayordomo le habló acerca de los enemigos de su amo y que debido a eso no podía traer a nadie a casa y vigilar sus pasos de regreso a casa cuando él no estuviera cerca.

La joven acepto con gusto, debido a que con el paso del tiempo Sebastián demostró ser un amante muy cariñoso y apasionado que le permitía mantener su libertad, cosa que en muchas ocasiones le fue negada en casa de sus padres, la chica podía vestir como le apetecía, tener suelto su cabello, dormir hasta tarde en fines de semana, salir con amigas y leer cualquier libro que le gustará sin tener que pedir permiso. En pocas palabras no había nadie que le negara la libertad.

Por la noche Sebastián llegaba a casa con su amada después de asegurarse de limpiar la zona llena de intrusos en la mansión. La joven le esperaba con el libro abierto y descansando en su vientre que subía y bajaba por su tranquila respiración, estaba tan dormida que no escucho a Sebastián anunciar su llegada.

Verla frente a él le devolvió ese sentimiento de satisfacción y saciedad que llevaba dentro de sí desde que se fue de su pequeña casa la madrugada anterior. Era su adicción a ese pequeño, pero hermoso cuerpo, lo que lo tenía con ansias de volver a su hogar. Solo los mininos lograban calmar un poco esa hambre de su amada, razón por la cual los apreciaba más de ser posible. La tomo entre sus brazos y la llevo hasta la cama, donde la deslizo suavemente por debajo de las sabanas. Se quito parte de su ropa hasta quedar en pantalones y su camisa blanca. Se acomodo detras de su ama y la abrazo por la espalda para atraerla hacia él y pegar su nariz a su nuca donde aspiro profundamente.

Si los demás demonios supieran la razón de porque se sometia a una relación romantica con una humana se reirian, pero a él no le importaba, como cualquier drogadicto nunca dejaria su vicio por la opinion ajena.Estaba tan distraido en su pequeño extasis que no se dio cuenta de que su amada comenzo a girarse para robarle un beso en la punta de la nariz, desconcertandolo un poco.

-¿Te gusta el olor de mi cabello?

-Me encanta.

-¿Tuviste mucho trabajo?

-No, solo lo de siempre, eso y tener que contar las horas para verte.

-Yo también te extrañé mucho.

-No tanto como yo.

Procedió a besarla y atraer más el cuerpo de la joven al suyo, amaba poder abrazarla, pues era cuando podía escuchar ese hipnotizante latido tan cerca de su cuerpo que lograba hacerlo suspirar. Aunque no habían mantenido intimidad aún, había algo que despertaba el interés de Sebastián por ese instinto tan bajo al que estaba acostumbrado, un simple beso, boca a boca, sería suficiente para encender su deseo y curiosidad por saber que se sentiría estar dentro de su droga más adictiva.

Una simple humana alteraba por completo la paciencia y temperatura del demonio que yacia abrazándola y besandola como si fuera la última vez.

Un grosero ruido se escuchó desde afuera de su morada, *clack* se escucho otra vez seguido de un grito que solo el demonio escucho como si lo tuviera a su lado, pero que la humana en sus brazos escuchó a lo lejos, que era donde estaba el incautó que se había atrevido a husmear en su escondite.

-Creo que deberías ir a ver quien fue.

-Lo haré si cuando vuelva me confiesas porque andas por casa sin ropa interior.

-¿Como lo supiste?

El demonio solo sonrió y deslizó su mano por la pierna de su novia y se detuvo antes de llegar al inicio de la cadera de su amante.

[blog1917]

Family Treasure

La Cafetera

            My family treasure is our coffee maker. In Spanish it’s called “una cafetera”. I could confidently say that the coffee maker is something that my family system would agree to as a treasure for us. In all my sibling’s houses, my aunts and uncle’s houses, my cousins' houses and of course my parents' house, anyone who goes would find this one common object. The coffee maker is an object that is used in our culture. Making coffee in the morning for breakfast and sitting at the dining table together to talk about our plans for the day and share reminders. After every meal a small cup of coffee is shared amongst the family as a form of tradition and unity. The most important cup of coffee is the one we each share after dinner. This last cup of the day is where everyone comes together to share stories about their day. The reason why this one last cup of coffee is important is because it’s a symbol of love and laughter before everyone disperse to their rooms or get sucked into social media or calls. The beauty behind these magical, heartfelt moments are made up by the famous coffee maker; also known as the “cafetera”. Many coffee makers can be made, claiming that is the best way to make the most delicious coffee but nothing would ever compare to the cafetera. The sound that it makes while it’s simmering at the top of the cafetera is like music to my families’ ears. The strong aroma of coffee that fills the kitchen and slowly dances in the air of the hallway till it reaches one's nose as a light touch of heaven. To the delightful smooth liquid texture running down our tongue into our souls. This is something no other coffee maker can do. But the one and only cafetera will make it happen. As I describe my family treasure and how it’s been passed down from generation to generation, I am reminded of what I read in the article “What is a System and system perspective?” by Davd Aloyzy Zera. In the article it states, “For example, a child is a system comprising that individual, as are individual teachers and administrators who are constantly changing and evolving” (pp 18). This caught my attention because I thought about the many ways that we could make coffee in this generation and how we have evolved from what our parents and grandparents used to use to make coffee but yet for my family it is very difficult to change our traditional way of making coffee. Which brings me to the idea and concepts of how children have their own family treasures that they carry with them. Although, there might be another “new” evolved object that may seem more effective, it won’t be the same for that child to change out of what they’ve been taught at home. As teachers we must be open minded with the objects that each child is comfortable with and ask questions on why each object that the child carries with them is important to them and their family system. As a three-year-old child I remember gathering in the living room with the family after a delicious dinner. My mother would clean the table as the coffee maker was singing its beautiful tone screaming that it’s ready to be serviced. I could still remember the excitement of my family as they scooped a teaspoon of white sugar and stirred quickly causing a harmonic song above the laughter that filled the air. Although I was too young to drink the coffee, I still felt like I was a part of the family unity. The important part wasn’t the delightful taste of the coffee. It was always about the conversations and family time together. Creating wonderful memories that would last a lifetime. That is why the coffee maker is a part of my family's system. This is a part of who I am as my own system which is a small branch in the whole definition of what makes me Marlene. A great example of this is found in the article “Socio-scientific Issues Instruction” by Molly Ewing and Troy D. Sadler. It states, “For example, in order to understand how a plant grows we might define the systems of the plant itself with component parts (e.g., stems, leaves) making up the whole, which can carry out a function the individual parts cannot” (pp18).  This was described perfectly because it brought me to mind how I approach each cup of coffee especially when I know it’s made from a cafetera. I remember two weeks ago, going to visit my sister’s house and the first thing she did after we shared a meal was prep the coffee maker and set the table to share a heart-to-heart talk while we indulged on a hot cup of fresh coffee while her son sat with us drinking milk from his sippy cup. This is tradition, this is relationship, this is culture, moreover, this is a part of who we are as a family system. In each story family system theory is shown by how just this one object brought forth several generations together to share this one moment. From the time when I was only three years old and looked up at my family enjoying these moments. To the present time of my sister and I sharing these moments as my nephew would sit joyfully, just as I used to do as a child. My family cannot understand the significance of the cafetera and how it plays a great part of our family system.

 Community Treasure:

The Holy Bible

            My community treasure is The Holy Bible. Reason being is that I grew up in a Christian community in which my family was deeply involved in. My mother is a pastor, my brothers and I are in the music ministry and the majority of my lifetime I’ve always been devoted to my church and faith. I remember taking the bible everywhere I went, including school. The bible would be the book that I would use for reading time. Of course, my parents would give me age-appropriate bible story books, nonetheless in my mind I understood it as it being the Holy Bible. Ever since I could remember I would go to church every Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday of the week. Plus, every Saturday for children’s events. Needless to say, all of my friends were and still are a part of my Christian community. Thus, The Holy Bible is undoubtedly a community treasure. The Bible is our common guide that brings us all together to be in the same mindset and have profound conversations. The value of the Holy Bible is unmatched for the members of my belief community. One of the most direct description of the important of community meaning in a child was found in the article “Toward inclusive understandings of marriage in an early childhood classroom: negotiating (un)readiness, community, and vulnerability through a critical reading of King and King” by Frantz Bently and Mariana Souto-Manning. The article states, “The connections with and between the children will carry and shape the conversation” (pp 197).  Which is very interesting to me because I thought about the connection of how a child’s character and mindset is molded due to the surrounding that child is exposed to. I recall a moment when I was in first grade, and it was reading time. All of my classmates were taking out their princess books or/and robot books, yet I was the only one taking out my Holy Bible book. My teacher pointed out that I could borrow one of the classroom books instead of reading the book I brought as if there was something wrong with my Bible book. This moment was very hard for me because my classmates started laughing and making fun of my book. Little did they know that in my mind I view my Holy Bible book just as important and interesting to me as their princes/robot books were to them. That experience led me to understand that teachers must take into consideration the importance of a Child's community. In my community the Holy Bible was and still is a beautiful treasure, which the stories never end and holds new meaning every single time a person reads it. Which leads me to the article, “Ecological Systems Theory: The Person in the Center of the Circles” by Nancy Darling. A great quote from this article stands out, which states, “When predicting the strength of association of parental knowledge with positive aspects of development (social skills, friendships with prosocial peers, good academic performance), one might predict a stronger association in high-resource environments” (pp 215). This quote brought me back to the way I felt in that moment when the teacher suggested choosing a different book to read. At that moment I felt very confident with the choice of book that I wanted to read. Not because I felt obligated to stick to the bible, instead I felt that I had a choice of my own and regardless of what others may think of my choice of book, I will remain strong with my choice. My parents never forced me to do anything unless it was regarding my safely. Which meant that I had the option of choosing what I wanted. However, due to the fact that I felt like my teacher didn’t understand the type of community I was a part of, it led to this moment of misunderstanding and what I felt was a lack of carelessness towards my community system. A great example of a moment when I felt like my community treasure was seen as the gem that it is, was when I would go on playdates with my friends, and we would each bring our Holy Bible with us. Showing each other the colorful pictures and sharing our own thoughts on what the pictures meant was the highlight of the day. As an adult I still have these moments with my friends, and we share such wonderful insights on what we understood of the bible. The value of the Holy Bible is truly incomparable. I wouldn’t treat it for any amount of money this world can offer me, and I feel that the members of my community would agree with me on this. 

Reflection:

            Family and community treasures promote family school community partnerships by bringing forth more clarity of each child and the systems that make them who they are as individuals. Understanding the cultures and values that bother the family treasures and community treasures hold is a powerful thing. Not only for the child but also for the relationship between the parents and the teachers. One Idea that I think would work towards bringing these two systems into another system would be to have the children express what one of their family systems or community systems is during circle time and use that information to pour into another system. A second idea would be to come up with a project where the parent could be a part of and have a presentation in class where both parents/family and child can speak about their family or community systems. Which would transition into a classroom system whereas a classroom, new games can come to be created. Overall, I think that each of the reading were perfectly clear on the importance of what systems theory is and how important it is in a Childs life. Which follows them into their young adult lives.  Most importantly as teachers it is important to be open to the different systems/ cultures a child brings into the classroom. As it was wonderfully explained was how Dana Frantz Bently and Mariana Souto-Manning stated, “To be a critical teacher is to embrace the discomfort of not knowing, to become vulnerable, to embrace the complexity of an identity that encompasses both teaching and learning (Freire 1998)” (pp 197). This is an important factor that all teachers must remember in order to bring for a great learning experience and journey for their students and their parents.

                                                                   Citation

 Davd Aloyzy Zera, Fall 2002, “What is a System and system perspective?”

Molly Ewing and Troy D. Sadler, November/December 2020 “Socio-scientific Issues Instruction”, The scienceTeacher.

Dana Frantz Bently and Mariana Souto-Manning, March 2, 2016, “Toward inclusive understandings of marriage in an early childhood classroom: negotiating (un)readiness, community, and vulnerability through a critical reading of King and King”, Https://doi.org/10.1080/09575146.2025.1104899

Nancy Darling, 2007 “Ecological Systems Theory: The Person in the Center of the Circles”

[365days365movies]

February 14, 2021: Brokeback Mountain (2005) (Part 1)

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Or Palentine’s, Galentine’s, Single Persons Appreciation Day, what have you!

Anyway, on this day where we (and the greeting card companies) celebrate love in all of its forms, I think it’s about time to diversify my movie choices a little bit. SO, for the next few days at least, we’re going to change it up, starting with a film that shook the 2005 public’s perceptions of love: Brokeback Mountain.

And who brings this movie to us? Same guy who gave us this:

And this:

And would give us this:

Ang Lee wasn’t originally meant to be the director of the film, as Gus van Sant was signed on to do it. You know, Good Will Hunting, Drugstore Cowboy, that one movie where Una Thurman plays the greatest hitchhiker in the world with giant thumbs, and eventually finds herself meeting multiple people, including Keanu Reeves, Pat Morita (Mr. Miyagi from The Karate Kid), and a group of radicalesbians who like in the Great Plains, coexisting with a group of critically endangered whooping cranes to whom they;’ve fed peyote, while also opposing the intentions of an evil feminine hygiene product company that seeks to take over the land for their factories? YOU KNOW, THAT MOVIE?

It’s called Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, and I wasn’t even slightly exaggerating with that summary, I SWEAR.

Anyway, he couldn’t do it, and Joel Schumacher also passed on it eventually, so they asked Ang Lee if he’d do it. After CTHD and Hulk, dude was on his way to retire, but after he cried at the end of the script, he accepted the job. AND HISTORY WAS MADE

Before I get into it, I should probably frank about something. I’m a cissexual, heterosexual man in a straight relationship with my girlfriend. She says hi, by the way. Here she is, a massive Jake Gyllenhaal fan, getting ready to watch this movie for the first time with me:

Isn’t she lovely? Anyway, just thought I’d be totally transparent about that. Incidentally, I remember when this film came out, as well as the fervor around it. This was JUST as the gay marriage debate was EXPLODING into the public scene, so this was obviously quite the talking point at the time.

 Anyway, shall we find out who’s not going to quit whom? SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

Cowboys Ennis del Mar (Heath Ledger) and Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal) are waiting outside of a trailer, with Ennis having just arrived  on a truck that reminded me of Optimus Prime, and I’m sorry. They’ve been hired by Joe Aguirre (Randy Quaid) to look after a group of sheep and guide them over Brokeback Mountain, a fictional mountain in Wyoming.

The two finally introduce each other, with Ennis seeming considerably closed off as compared to the open Jack Twist. They head to a bar, where the two get to know each other a but better Jack’s an occasional shepherd, but highly involved in rodeos throughout the year. Ennis, meanwhile, is a regular ranchhand at his family’s farm.

Time for sheep-herding, as the two guide their flock of sheep on horseback, with soft country guitars playing in the background over all of it. And I gotta say, the music combined with the visuals is giving me this real sleepy ambience vibe that I 100% would watch specifically to fall asleep to. Which is not an insult by any means, by the way; it’s just super relaxing.

The two make camp with the sheep in a mountain valley, and now I want to go camping. I realize that it’s February, and I live in a place VERY non-conducive to camping, but GODDAMN this movie makes me want to go camping. In the wilderness, surrounded by bird calls and crisp mountain air, LET’S GO.

We find out that Ennis is engaged to be wed to a woman named Alma, while Jack is yearning to break free of needing to take jobs like this. And all the while, they’re eating beans, scaring away coyotes, and fending of REALLY REALLY FAT American black bears, who you could really easily scare away without too much difficulty. You ever stared at a bear while both of you were in the woods? I HAVE. And we BOTH took off from each other in opposite directions. They’re not the bravest of animals, black bears. Grizzlies, however, you don’t wanna fuck with.

Anyway, after they face off against that bear and lose their newly bought supplies, they go hunting the next day and take down an elk. Which is a LOT of venison, I tell you what! Oh, and I’m not a hunter, just to be clear, but elk are fuggin’ HUGE. Seriously, XL deer they are.

Anyway, time goes on after that, and they continue to make their way through the mountains. And they get to know each other more, sharing their rodeo experiences and family backgrounds. Ennis also opens up pretty considerably, a fact not missed by Jack. The two become friends.

My girlfriend asks an interesting question: if I had never heard of this movie in any capacity...would I have known the extent of the relationship of Ennis and Jack? And honestly...I’m legitimately not sure at this point. I think I would’ve just assumed that they’d stay close friends, but no further than that. Call that being raised in a society with heterosexual bias towards relationships, or call that me not being a natural shipper. Both are probably accurate, to be honest.

Anyway, it’s getting cold out, and Jack’s sleeping in the tent one night while Ennis is freezing his balls off outside. With Jack’s insistence, he goes inside the tent to sleep next to Jack. And then...

Oh. Well, OK. Again, though, still not sure that at this point I’d...oh wait...OH...OH.

OK. Think I’d be able to tell at this point what the movie’s about.

So, yeah, they have sex. It’s spontaneous, it’s wild, it’s heat of the moment passion...and it’s REAL awkward the next day, I tell you what. That next evening, Ennis and Jack both insist that they “ain’t queer,” and that this is “a one-shot thing they got goin’.”

Uh, boys? There’s some important evidence to the contrary that we should consider here. But, OK, it’s a different culture, this is super new to you both, I get it. I’m not one to talk on the coming out or discovery experience (again, straight cis dude over here), but I understand that there’s some inherent denial. But still, they continue their relationship as is, for the time being.

Which is not as private as they thought, as Joe Aguirre observes them chasing each other naked on the mountain from afar. Whoops. Well, it doesn’t matter as much, as they still have a job to do until summer ends. And that job continues. They encounter another herd of sheep that gets tangled up with theirs, snow falls on the mountain and they have to deal with that, etc.

Then one day, the two need to head out. Jack goes to fetch Ennis, who’s moping on a hillside about something. He does this play lasso thing, which seems cute...

...until it turns into a full on brawl right there on the hillside. OK. Well. Some heavy denial going on here, I think, especially on Ennis’ part. Which is somewhat understandable, given the culture, and the fact that Ennis is engaged. Oh, by the way, hello infidelity. GodDAMN IT. Escaped you for TWO MOVIES IN A ROW, and you’re back rearing your ugly head.

Anyway, the job is done soon, and Aguirre’s not exactly happy with them, as they’ve apparently lost some sheep and picked up some from the other herd’s flock accidentally. With a light rebuke from Aguirre, the two part ways with not much else said. Jack asks if Ennis will come back the next summer, and Ennis reminds him that he’s getting married that fall. But as Ennis leaves...

Huh. Interesting reaction, that. Well, in the next scene, Ennis gets married to Alma Beers (Michelle Williams), and they seem to have a very happy relationship. They have two daughters together in a pretty small amount of time. The next summer, Jack tries to get a job with Joe Aguirre once again, but is refused on account of his relationship with Ennis on the mountain...kind of.

See, here’s the thing. Joe rebukes Jack for having their relationship on the mountain, leaving the dogs to babysit the sheep, rather than do the job they were hired for. And, uh...he’s not wrong, honestly. Yeah, OK, there’s definitely some homophobia laced in there, obviously, but they were hired to watch the sheep, and we only really saw them do that once or twice. So, yeah, sorry to say, but Joe’s not entirely unjustified in not rehiring Jack.

At a Fourth of July festival, Ennis brings his wife and daughters to see the fireworks, when a couple of bikers antagonize the crowd as a whole. This results in Ennis telling them to stop, and a fight takes place, with Ennis IMMEDIATELY taking out the two bikers, with little effort. Anger issues there, Ennis? 

Jack returns to the rodeo, with new other options for money. He’s clearly also coming to terms with his own sexuality, as seen when he not so subtly hits on a cowboy at the bar. However, he also meets a young woman, a barrel racer named Lureen Newsome (Anne Hathaway), whom he seems to get along with fairly quickly at a rodeo. They dance together at the bar that night, and, uh...park.

And that, of course, leads to their eventual marriage and parentage as well. Looks like Lureen’s parents arent the biggest fans of Jack, though. Sure that’s going to lead to a healthy relationship down the road.

Been about 4 years since Brokeback Mountain, and this is punctuated by Jack paying a visit to Ennis’ place, which Ennis is told about by Alma. He seems...very anious, waiting nervously for a day to see him. But he finally arrives, and the two embrace happily. And then...

Oh, and Alma sees? Sure, sure, oh, and they go to a motel IMMEDIATELY? Oh, OK, OK, infidelity? Yuuuuuuupyupyupyupyupyup, halfway point? Yeah, sure, see you in Part 2. Geez.

[gather-ye-sinners]

Ur nsfw was so beautiful I had to make a tumblr account so I could follow *italian chef kiss* Could I get some modern day bucci gang headcannons, preferably no mafia business 💞💘💝💖💕

You’re so sweet!! 🥰💕💞 Thank you!

They’re a bit of a fix it Au but I really like the idea that they all found each other without the Mafia. I’m a sucker for a found family!

Modern Bucci Gang Headcanons.

Warnings: Some Angst, Abuse Mentions and Death Mention.

Bruno Buccellati:

He’s most likely a fisherman like his father.

Has a side hustle as a tourist boat during the summer.

He gets a good amount of money to slowly expand his business and help out the locals by bringing more people their way.

Probably opens a small restaurant. Mostly fish dishes.

He knows family businesses make the tourist population go crazy, so he named his shop Buccellati and Sons.

No nonsense in his business

Has kicked people out for being rude to the waitstaff

Now he knows he isn’t supposed to but he puts meals that get sent back aside to feed some of the less fortunate

Makes sure the meal is mostly intact save for maybe one or two bites.

Takes Abbacchio in as a cook after the incident with his partner.

Giorno is his most popular waiter.

Abbacchio gets slightly pissed he lets Giorno have the most flexible schedule.

Bruno argues he’s doing the same for Narancia and Fugo.

He’s still a mom friend and does the best he can to help the community.

Leone Abbacchio:

He spends most of his time cooking for Buccellati

On his off time, he’s studying to be a social worker.

He can’t be bribed by a shitty parent.

He thinks of it as his penance for his partner’s passing.

Becomes a fantastic Social Worker

He knows the law back and front.

Will do anything in his power to get kids a better life.

Switches to a part-time cook for Buccellati.

Finds Trish through his work and cries his eyes out to Bruno over it.

Bruno fosters Trish at his request.

Abbacchio adopts her as soon as possible.

V good dad but those are Headcanons for another day ;)

Guido Mista:

Buccellati’s best cook.

Treats all the crew like he’s their big brother.

Had to be talked out of tackle hugging Trish and Giorno.

Vows to protect and care for the both of them after learning why.

Really takes the younger boys under his wing.

Makes them their favorite snacks for finals and study time.

Had to be talked out of spitting in the food of some asshole who made Trish uncomfortable.

Wants to be a cop someday but due to being an ex-con he doesn’t think he’ll get to.

Would settle on being a life coach of some sort.

Narancia Ghirga:

A student on Buccellati’s dime.

Studies as hard as he can with Fugo, Giorno and Trish.

Bad at algebra and proofs but surprisingly good at geometry.

He just likes shapes

He usually works as a busboy but he washes dishes in the summer.

Wants to be a pilot someday.

Protects his fam.

Poured chili in the lap of some asshole who was making fun of Giorno.

Gets into lots of fights along with Fugo.

Plays percussion in the band.

He’s a hell of a snare player.

Goes to every pep band.

Stans the quadtoms and set.

He’s thriving y’all

Pannacotta Fugo:

Another student on Buccellati’s dime

Excellent student loved by all the teachers

Was wary to be back in school after so long

Lives in the art room making vent pieces.

Paints very abstract almost edgy art.

Very good artist and Buccellati has some of his work hung up in the shop.

Does everything of his own will.

Busboy and dishwasher like Narancia.

Has a therapist.

And a collection of stress balls.

Is significantly more chill.

Feels bad for triggering Trish and Giorno during his outbursts.

He never means it but it hurts them all the same.

He understands why they’re scared.

Unsure what he wants to do with his life.

There are so many choices that he can choose.

Probably ends up as an art teacher or a social worker like Abba.

Giorno Giovanna:

He still saved that gangster so his childhood is a bit better.

Frequents Buccellati’s and reveals he’s basically been disowned.

Abba’s cop and social worker training works wonders.

Gets a part-time job and becomes Buccellati’s ward.

Eventually adopted.

Slightly skittish.

He knows people can be nice but all of these people are being super nice to him? Why?

Part of the Has a Therapist gang with Fugo and Trish.

Probably has meds for anxiety and/or depression.

Comforts Trish a lot

They’re practically attached at the hip.

Wants to be a Lawyer or a Botanist.

Doesn’t really have an interest in law but something about it calls to him.

Trish Una:

Unfortunately had a terrible childhood.

Diavolo wasn’t a kind man to begin with but with Donatella out of the picture…

Constantly looking over her shoulder.

Has a hard time with privacy.

Either way too open or way too closed off no in-between.

Craves social interaction.

Gets along really well with Bruno.

Loves the Sex Pistols, they’re so much fun to talk to.

Often has nightmares of Diavolo.

Some involve Doppio. 

He’s always in a grey area for her to talk about.

Has anxiety meds for sure.

Abbacchio is her go to for panic attacks.

Giorno his her second

She’s kinda a mess but she tries to be kind.

Has some intense meanness in her.

Hates the color of her hair, too much like Him she says.

Bruno helps her dye it brown like her mother’s

In choir and plays flute.

Narancia helps her with rhythms and any small dancing.

Wants to be a Journalist or a Seamstress. She’s not sure.